MindTap
by blackDIAMONDdrop
Summary: Carol Danvers is a sixth year muggleborn witch at Hogwarts. Rogue is a junior at Xavier's school for mutants. A chance encounter will irrevocably change both their lives- maybe not for the better.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I am not making any profit from this story._

Chapter One

"Y' gon' call me when y' land, _chere_?" Gambit asked her, loading her suitcases onto the weight machine at the airport check in desk.

"If it makes you feel better, sugah," Rogue crooned, receiving her passport and license back from the brunette behind the counter.

"An' you'll check in every nigh'?" Gambit seemed nervous, pulling out a deck of cards to shuffle every couple of seconds before realizing it and stuffing them away into one of his various duster pockets.

She turned to face him more fully. "Maybe not every night, you swamp rat, but often enough. Ah'm not gonna forget about ya, ya know that?"

He smiled, a sudden grin that made it hard to ignore how close they were standing or that there were other people waiting impatiently for their turn to check in or that her plane was going to take off in half an hour and she would be on it. Which meant she wouldn't be seeing Gambit for nearly four months while she studied abroad in London. Her stomach twisted nervously. "Like he's really gonna miss ya when there's other people for him to be interested in, people who can kiss him without putting him in a coma," she thought. Hastily she turned and swept towards the security, missing the flash of disappointment that swept across Gambit's face before it was replaced with a look a hunting cat might sport before it catches a mouse.

"On de other hand, I did volunteer t' drive y' out here, _chere_," whispered the psyche of Gambit locked in her mind.

"Roguey, y' gon' at least give me a hug goodbye?" called out the real Gambit. She halted to spin towards him.

"If you want a hug goodbye you're gonna have to come and get it. And don't call me that." She smirked a little, taking the bite out of her words. He grinned and glided towards her, closing the distance much quicker than she anticipated. His red on black jester's eyes peeked over the tops of the sunglasses, providing a rare glimpse of the only physical sign of his mutation. "His eyes are so beautiful," she thought.

"No' as beautiful as y', Rogue," the psyche Gambit answered, just as the real Gambit swept her into his arms and spun, lifting her feet off the linoleum ground and bringing a blush to her normal brooding countenance. She squeezed him back for an instant, careful not to touch the exposed skin of her face to him.

"Y' know y' could stay at de Institute dis year, 'stead o' studyin' abroad. London's kind o' far 'way, _oui_?"

She couldn't see his face, still holding her cheek against his duster, trying to memorize the scent of spices and leather that uniquely meant Remy LeBeau to her. "Ah know. But this abroad program will be great for my college resume, especially since I get to work part-time at the embassy. I'll try to call you every night, Remy. Just don't worry about me. I'm sure you'll be having fun, helping teach the younger kids and all, you'll be just as busy as me." The Professor had asked Gambit to teach French and co-teach Phy Ed with Logan at the school since he was technically old enough to be out of high school but wasn't interested in going to college. Gambit had accepted it, having joined with the X-men a few months ago after Trask had tried to kidnap the students of Xavier's. They had managed to advert a disaster, thankfully, and also keep the existence of mutants out of public spotlight, though it had been a near thing. It was bad enough the government already had a clue about them.

Rogue shivered and pulled back from Gambit, her cheeks a suspicious pink. "Ah've got to go now. Thanks for the lift, Remy. I'll see you at Christmas time!" With that she hiked up her duffel bag and hoisted it over her shoulder, stepping in line for one of the security check points. Remy watched her till she disappeared around the corner, smiling crookedly.

"Take care, _chere_. _Bon voyage_." He whispered. He had a very bad feeling about this trip of hers.

* * *

Carol Danvers was running late. Her alarm clock, the fifth one she'd had over the summer, hadn't gone off, probably due to the fact that her wand lay neatly across the top of it, where she had placed it after wearing herself out practicing all the wand movements out of the up-coming sixth-year Transfiguration textbook. She was already done reading all the textbooks for the year except History of Magic, which she absolutely detested. The subject was a complete waste of perfectly good time that she figured could be better spent on more useful concepts, like integrating purebloods to common Muggle concepts. For example, electricity. Except, wizards didn't seem to have a use for electricity when it didn't work around magic. Like her alarm clock. Which read 9:36 am, not 8:00 am, which was the time she ought to have woken up at to shower, finish packing her books, wake her parents, eat and get to King's Cross Station before the train pulled out at 11 o'clock. "This is not going to be a good day," she thought crossly, glaring at the wisp of smoke that escaped the clock before the screen went completely black.

* * *

Rogue leaned back into the relative comfort of the airplane seat and closed her eyes. For once, the voices in her head were silent, maybe as excited, or nervous, as she was about this trip. She still remembered when Xavier had told her about the study abroad program he'd set up with the University of Westminster.

She'd entered his office, summoned by his mental call, and shut the door quietly behind her. He gestured her to take a seat in one of the two black leather chairs in front of the desk.

"Ah, Rogue, I'm glad you were free. I wanted to talk to you about a project I've been working on. I have been in correspondence with some old friends at the University of Westminster in London and they have generously agreed that it would be a wonderful opportunity for the students here if we had a study abroad program. What do you think?"

Rogue had been intrigued with the idea, and told him as such. "That would be awesome, Professor, London ties into a lot of different areas of study. I know Jubilee would be interested in the theater culture there and…"

"No, Rogue, you misunderstand me," he cut in gently. "I have suggested you as the candidate to study in London. I know of your interest in international studies, and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you. There is also a position for an internship at the nearby United States embassy, working as a researcher's assistant. Now while you are not required to apply for that, I thought that I would mention it."

Rogue was shocked. She had sat in the chair with her eyes a little glazed over and mouth slightly agape, until Xavier's amused chuckle cleared her mind. "Professor, I would love to go to London! You're right about it being a good opportunity, and, oh, thank you!" She lurched to her feet and rushed around the table to hug him briefly.

"Of course," Rogue thought, "That had been before I completely thought through the ramifications of leaving the school for a year."

It had been later, at one of her sessions working with Xavier, when the plans to study abroad were nearly finalized that she realized something.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Rogue."

"What about these sessions when I'm abroad? I mean, I still need to work on control and everything, right?"

Xavier had leaned forward with his fingertips resting together and frowned a bit. "Yes, you will need to work on control while you are away. However, I believe at this point it is more control over the order of your mind and emotions."

Rogue had been stunned a little. It had been a year since her breakdown when the psyches in her mind had clamored for control over her body. But she had been working so hard with Xavier, that it felt like she was making progress. The ultimate goal, of course, was to be able to control the absorption. But recently they had been working on ordering and controlling her mind so that the psyches couldn't push her out of balance like that ever again.

"That is not to say that we are giving up on controlling your gift physically, merely that I have noticed in your mind what seems to be a block on your abilities that relates to your emotions and orderliness of your mind. The neater your mind is, so to speak, the more clearly I can see the block to try and study it, to see if there is a way to work around it or remove it. But it is slow going. You have made tremendous progress in learning the meditation techniques and learning to deal with major emotions instead of bottling them up until they overwhelm your mind, but these sessions have become more a manner of check-ups. You are doing everything correctly, it is simply a matter of practice and continuing to work your way through the clutter," he concluded.

Rogue had felt the sharp sting of disappointment welling up her throat, and immediately focused on controlling her breathing. "But, Professor, you really think it will take the nine months I'm away to organize my mind? That means it would be nearly a year before we could actually work on stopping the absorption and I'd only have my senior year left when I come back!"

"Rogue, calm down. I am not giving up on this. We knew it would take perhaps many years to get you to the point of complete control. This is simply an interval for you to move forward with your life. You have to think of the future, not just the present."

"Miss, you need to buckle your seatbelt, please. The plane is taking off," A flight attendant broke into her memories.

Rogue nodded and pulled the belt across her lap to click it in securely. The woman continued to bustle down the aisle, slamming the overheads loudly, sometimes repeatedly where the compartment was clearly overly full. Rogue shook her head as if to toss sadness off like water. She knew intellectually that the Professor had shown her the right path to take with regards to her abilities, but it still felt like a disappointment. Like she was giving up and resigning herself to a lifetime of solitude. She didn't think she could see a time when it was the simplest thing in the world to hold someone's hand or give a hug without being super aware of how close her cheek was to the other person's skin.

The airplane around her started to rumble as the engine kicked on and they slowly moved away from the port. Rogue watched the ground slid away under the plane's wing just outside the window.

Remy LeBeau was perhaps the one person in the mansion who understood what she was going through. He had confided in her, as they hung out on the roof of the mansion, that when his powers first manifested, he was blowing up things randomly. He refused to touch anyone in his _famille _for fear they'd be blown to smithereens. Then, he told her, "De mos' wonderful t'ing 'appened. Remy nearly blew up 'is _frère_."

Rogue had to laugh despite herself. "How's that a good thing, Cajun?"

"Well, y' go' t' understand, chere. I was passin' Henri a fork fo' dinner and I accidentally charged it. And the charge, it jus' kept goin' through the fork and b'fore I knew it, _mon frère_ was lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew dat he couldn' let go and I couldn' let go cause then we'd be cleanin' bits o' Henri from de dinin' room floor. An' de only ot'er option was to walk 'round de rest o' our lives holdin' onto a fork.

By that time they were both holding back laughter, even though Rogue could see the small bit of terror in his eyes that he must have felt in that moment years ago. She had felt the same way when Cody was lying on the floor before her, motionless, and again when she blearily recognized Wolverine through the wind and the screaming of the voices in her head and he was trying to talk to her and calm her down, and her friends, the rest of the X-men watched with worry on the ground. Not wanting to hurt her, and she as unwilling to hurt them.

"So what did you do? I'm guessing you weren't cleaning bits o' Henri up, as you said."

"Non. See, Remy be thinkin'—"

"Oh, Lord!"

"Now, y' wan' t' hear dis o' not?" He poked her side. She giggled a little and scooted away.

"Just sayin'. Go on!"

"Well, I thought I'd be an Indian giver. If I coul' give dat charge out, den I sure as hell coul' take it back. I didn' wan' t' loose Henri. So I kinda pushed my mind out into de charge, felt it coverin' de fork and on into Henri and I started to pull it back towards me. I got it halfway down de fork before I lost focus and had to toss it away from me. But Henri was safe. And I t'ank _Mon Dieu_ for dat. It also helped me see dat I coul' control de blowin' up stuff. But it took a long time and much practice b'fore anyt'ing came o' it."

They were silent for a bit, looking out over the treetops as.

"Thank you for telling me that, Remy. It helps. It gives me hope that one day, I could… control this," Rogue had whispered.

"Course y' can. An' y' will." And with that, Remy stood and scooped up her gloved hand, kissing it lightly before disappearing over the rooftop to return to his room.

"Swamp rat," Rogue scoffed lightly, breaking out of her memories once more. The flight attendant was on the over-com, telling them to prepare for takeoff. She looked out the window, watching as the ground rushed faster and faster beneath her, and finally fell away into the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I am not making any profit from this story._

Chapter Two:

The bright morning sunshine of September the first found Rogue hiding from the rays on the London underground, trying to get from the Heathrow station to Westminster. Unfortunately, she was fast asleep, nodding off with her three bags propping up her left side as the train speed along the Piccadilly line and past her switchover at South Kensington. The jetlag had hit her hard halfway through the long flight, even though she had tried to follow Xavier's advice about staying awake until London nighttime.

Rogue found it odd that her dream seemed to mimic the inside of the train. She was the only one on the car, except for one other woman seated in constant shadows at the front end of the cab.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Where'd everybody else go?" Her voice came out hoarse and thin. It was only then that she realized the hair on the back of her neck was sticking straight up. Something was _wrong_.

"Ma'am?" she tried again.

There was no answer.

Unsteadily, she rose and made her way towards the woman, grasping handrails along the way to keep upright as the train shifted side to side and bumped along the track. The woman was holding something in her hand, a cane it looked like. Only it was thin and white…

"_Irene_?" Rogue whispered. The shadows stubbornly clung to her face, making it hard to make out her features and Rogue leaned forward to cup the familiar face between her hands…

And found herself seated and staring up at a carbon copy of her own face framed by silvery white chunks of hair, warm hands caressing either cheek. It was like she was looking in a mirror, but overlaid with a sense that she was not the person being reflected back at her. Images began to push at her mind and overlap with her eyes, telling her that she was both looking at herself and receiving vivid images moving so fast she couldn't quite see them or understand them, and there was a burst of red light, like Scott's eyebeams, but it was a slight shade too dark, and then the overwhelming feeling of urgency and she had to say something—

"Rogue, you need to get off the underground." Why was she talking to herself? She was Rogue, but, at this moment she wasn't, she was Irene.

"Rogue, wake up. You are going the wrong way. Get off the underground." Strange that she hadn't seen Irene in so long and yet she was here. But the images in her mind were giving her a headache and Rogue's face was going blurry and she was getting so tired, the energy was draining away so fast, but she had to try one more time to press how urgent it was that Rogue _wake up now_!

"G-Get off the underground b-be-before… y-you…" It was too late, she saw suddenly. She'd done the wrong thing, worked right into fate's plan and there came the darkness to swallow her—

Rogue jolted awake as a man roughly bumped into her knee, filing out the automatic doors of the train car. She looked around, panicking to realize there were much more people on the car than before and she was pretty sure she had missed her stop. She hurriedly stood to scoop up her bags and barely made it through the doors before they slid shut. Looking around the underground cavern, she spied a sign affixed to the wall proclaiming her to be at the Green Park station. Rummaging around in her trench coat pocket produced a map of the underground and a few seconds of following the line Northeast showed her where she was.

"Well," she thought, "This isn't such a bad place to get off at."

All she really had to do was get on the Victoria line heading south and she'd be back on track to switch to the green or yellow line to get to Westminster. Thus decided, she shoved the map back into her pocket and followed a crowd up a level of escalators to the signs which indicated the light blue line she needed.

As she walked, she tried to calm down her racing heart. She remembered dreaming, something urgent Irene had been trying to tell her, but the sense of being wrong was slowly draining away in the face of the normalcy in the bustling crowd moving around her, chatting with friends and coworkers, footsteps amplified and bouncing off the concrete walls, street musicians adding their unique flavor to the noise from cramped spots against the wall, and the mechanical movements and whooshing of air from the trains coming and going.

Rogue loved the knowledge that she faded away from sight in this crowd. She was very obviously travelling with her three bags, but walked with an air of confidence, knowledge in where she was going and if she ended up making a mistake, she could fix it and easily get to where she needed to be. She was going to be studying here for four months before a short trip home for the holidays and then back until the end of the semester in May. She had the full support of her friends and teachers back home and would be meeting new people here in her classes and through the embassy. She would be getting job experience in an embassy! She could feel her excitement rising at the thought, and pulled to a stop in front of the Victoria line train that had just pulled up on the right side tracks, waiting for everyone to step off before she entered and arranged her bags on the ground near the door. She just had to go one stop south.

* * *

Carol was feeling a little grumpy. Her rush around the house to walk up her parents and get ready to go back to Hogwarts was not appreciated by her Labrador, Choco, who insisted on following her while barking his head off. She was going to miss him to death and his playful nature, but he sure didn't know when she was trying to get stuff done and when she was playing with him. In his mind, anything she picked up and then put down was for him to fetch or play keep away with. She'd lost a few books that way.

"Carol, do you need this?" Her dad popped his head in the doorway, holding her folded scarf, hat and gloves proudly colored the blue of Ravenclaw. She smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, winter would be kind of cold without those. Thanks, Dad."

"No problem, love. Just tell me when you're ready to put your trunk in the boot and we'll ship off." He kissed her head and wandered back downstairs as she reopened her trunk for the third time, a book sliding out and onto the floor. She sighed and picked it up before Choco could get to it and stuffed the small pile into the trunk. The lid barely slammed closed before anything else slid out but it did close. She gave her room one last glance around, noting nothing else she wished to take, and began to roll the trunk into the hall.

By the time they left the two story townhouse, it was 10:21. They should have left earlier, but they wouldn't be too late so long as traffic wasn't heavy. With her Dad driving, it was only a short while before King's Cross Station was in front of them and she was wheeling the trolley between her parents as they approached platforms 9 and 10.

She frowned looking at the platform where the barrier was. There was a conspicuous amount of people hanging around that she recognized from Hogwarts and almost every single one was frowning. Two boys she recognized as Harry Potter and Colin Creevey stood right up against the barrier, leaning against it.

"Well," she amended, "It's more like they're trying to shove the wall back a few feet with brute strength." They were failing too. But more importantly they were still on this side of the barrier.

"Honey, isn't that where…?" her mother murmured.

"Yeah," she responded quietly, checking her watch. It was 10:51. They had nine minutes to get on Hogwart's Express before it pulled out. "How are we going to get to Hogwarts if the barrier is closed?"

* * *

Harry Potter thought that lightening wasn't supposed to strike twice. Or at least, that the barrier on platform 9 ¾ wasn't supposed to close up on him once, let alone twice in his educational career. Yet here he was again, leaning against the stone with Colin at his side, trying to push their way through the unforgiving wall.

"At least it's not just me and Ron this time, eh?" Harry muttered to himself halfheartedly. It was true, though. He had been one of the first people to get there, only Hermione was earlier. He was by himself, Vernon having dropped him off. When he drew near the barrier, Hermione was nearly in tears with her parents trying to quietly comfort her. When she saw him, she looked relieved, and practically bowled him over in a hug. She thought everyone else had already gone through and she didn't even have an owl to send for help.

"Still, Harry, this is not good! Everyone on this side of the barrier has ties to the muggle world, do you realize this? All the purebloods have just been apparating directly onto the platform. What if the ministry has decided to just kick us out?" Hermione was nearly hyperventilating as she ranted. Harry sighed and wrapped her in a hug.

"They wouldn't just close the barrier then," he comforted her, hoping logic would help. "They would send obliviators out and we still remember everything. Besides, see how many of us there are? They can't kick us all out. That's just not right. Dumbledore…" his voice faltered a little thinking of the headmaster half in conviction and half in anger. "Dumbledore wouldn't let them take away _more than half_ the school. The wizarding world would shrink to nearly nothing within the first couple of years of kicking out everybody who isn't a pureblood. I don't think the Ministry has anything to do with this, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him with a slight smile on her face.

"What?"

"You just used logic to reassure with me. Maybe you're not a lost cause after all."

He laughed. "It's your influence, I swear."

Hermione grew contemplative. "Do you think Dumbledore knows about this?"

"Probably not."

"We should tell him."

"How? He's not here, no floo connection, Snape would have a cornory if we all pulled out broomsticks and flied there."

"Not in broad daylight from the middle of London, Harry!"

"I know, I know. I've already had this lecture once from Snape after we crashed into the Whomping Willow! He told me, in not so many words, I should have written a bloody note and…. Oh." His cheeks darkened with a blush.

"Oh, why didn't I think of that! Hedwig is right here, where's some parchment and a quill?"

Hedwig hooted loudly, seemingly in agreement. Harry opened his trunk a bit, rummaging around and pulled out a small piece of parchment and a ballpoint. "Here, I have this." He handed it to her. She bit her lower lip for a second, staring at the black parchment and then started writing in a flowing but neat script.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Harry and I are at Platform 9 ¾, along with all the other students from the muggle side of the barrier. We can't get through to the Hogwart's Express as the barrier has been sealed since I showed up at 10:00 am. We suspect that the people apparating directly to the platform have not had any trouble. We await word of what we should do, since it is not possible to attempt anything by ourselves due to the restrictions against underage magic outside of Hogwarts. Thank you._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

Harry read the note over her shoulder, nodding in approval, and when she was finished he rolled it up and attached it to Hedwig's leg.

"Hey, Colin!" he called over the chatter of the other students. "Come here!"

Colin appeared at his elbow, bouncing. "Yeah, Harry?"

"We need a distraction away from here, so that we can send Hedwig off with a note for help. Think you can do something?"

"Sure thing! Me and Dennis have been practicing play-fighting over the summer and people always stop to watch and tell us how awesome it is and I thought so too cause I saw it on the internet and tried it out and now I know how to recreate the fight scene from the Matrix where…"

"So you can keep people occupied for two minutes while she takes off?"

Colin nodded his head enthusiastically. "Sure thing, Harry!"

"Go to it!"

The younger Gryffindor practically skipped off to grab his brother, Dennis, and whisper in his ear before they moved over to a small clearing. They both dropped into fist fighting stances circling each other. Some other students, having overheard their conversation ringed around them and started egging them on, like it was an actual fight.

"Go Colin!" Dean Thomas shouted. "Go Dennis!"

Harry gave him a look.

"What? Have to be fair, don't I? They're both Gryffindors!"

Harry laughed and, with Hermione by his side, moved to the other side of the barrier, letting Hedwig waddle from her cage onto his arm.

"Take the note straight to Dumbledore. If he wants you to wait for a reply, then do so, otherwise I'll visit you at the owlery with a treat once we get to Hogwarts. Fly safe." Harry said, stroking her feathers.

She hooted softly at him and pushed off of his arm. Harry watched her disappear rapidly into the sky, then looked around cautiously to make sure no one else noticed. Hermione shook her head, "All's clear. Now we wait."

"Hopefully he'll be here soon."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I am not making any profit from this story._

Chapter Three:

As Carol drew near to the milling group of Hogwarts students, she noticed that Harry Potter had seemingly given up on trying to force his way through the barrier and held a short conversation with Hermione Granger before she scribbled out a note and attached it to his owl. Her interest was peaked, as a word to Colin lead to a mock fight between the two gangly brothers, during which two of the golden trio slide out of sight around the edge of the barrier and the white owl took to the sky, nearly unnoticed. She wormed her way through the crowd to join them.

"—be here soon." Harry was saying.

Hermione noticed her first. "Hi! Hogwarts, too? You look vaguely familiar."

Carol tried not to be slightly offended that they didn't recognize her. She was in the same year as them. "Yeah, I'm in Ravenclaw. Carol Danvers. Did you just send a message to the Headmaster?"

Hermione nodded. "We don't think he knows about the barrier being sealed."

"Probably not," she agreed. "It's kind of suspicious, don't you think? I don't see any purebloods here and very few half-bloods."

"What does it matter?" Harry input.

"Well, that means if it's not the Ministry or the Headmaster, it's sabotage and probably by a pureblood who has quite a bit of power, or influence to get to the power needed, to seal the barrier."

"I was thinking the same thing," Hermione concurred. "But what's the purpose, if Dumbledore will arrive and find a way to get us to Hogwarts by either opening the barrier or finding an alternate route there?"

Harry shook his head. "But until someone shows up, we can't do magic and there's just a big group of Hogwarts students here, like we're… sitting ducks."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a concerned glance. Carol's mind raced trying to keep up with their thoughts. "Are you saying this could be an attack?"

"I don't know," Harry said carefully, checking his wristwatch. "It's eleven now and it seems like if it were, they would have done someth-"

_BOOOOOOM!_

The ground shook beneath their feet and Carol staggered against the brick barrier for support. The stones were red hot beneath her hands and she jerked back quickly, shaking them to get rid of the sensation of heat.

Harry and Hermione were already running around the corner, shouting towards the other students. Carol could see a rainbow of lights being flung from the crowd and took a hesitant step towards the other students, sliding her maple and dragon heartstring wand from a jean pocket.

"This can't be happening," she remotely whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bricks that had burnt her hands begin to glow an ominous orange color. She turned her head to stare more fully as cracks started to spiral out from the center of the barrier and the shattered pieces of brick from between those cracks seemed to bulge outwards.

"What the h-" she managed before the wall exploded towards her in a burst of brilliant orange. She felt a sharp pain to her forehead before darkness consumed all.

* * *

"This can't possibly get any worse," Rogue thought, glaring at her map of the London underground. As it turned out, she had gotten on the Victoria line heading north, rather than south. She had figured it out when, instead of the next immediate stop being Victoria, the conductor had called for Oxford Circus. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling the lack of sleep weighing heavily on her brain.

"There," she whispered to herself. The Victoria line crossed with the Piccadilly line at King's Cross Station. She'd take the dark blue line back to the original station she was supposed to get off at. She felt silly running around on the underground like this all day. She was already an hour late for check-in at the University. Sighing, she leaned back and stretched her arms out, trying to work kinks from her shoulders and back. The car around her was relatively full, but no one had tried to sit near her with her bags taking up the seat on either side and on the floor in front of her.

She wondered what Remy was doing at that moment. "Probably sleeping," she thought. "Lucky duck." There was a five hour time difference and it was nearly 11 am in London. He was probably still passed out in bed. She pulled her mobile from her pocket and traced figure eights on the screen absently. It was too early to call him and let him know she had nearly made it, and knowing him, he would want her to call him again when she was settled into the campus dorm. He could be over protective sometimes, which while it was sweet, annoyed Rogue to death. She could take care of herself. She tucked the mobile back into her pocket, with a silent promise to call him later.

Thoughts of Remy flew from her head as the train screeched to a halt at King's Cross Station. The intercom crackled to life.

"Attention all passengers, there has been reports of an attack on the near-by train station above ground. As a precaution all public transports in the area are being evacuated. At this time, please follow the exits to the top side and obey the directions of emergency personnel. I repeat, please evacuate the area by following the exits to above ground and obey all directions of emergency personnel."

Rogue felt the back of her neck prickle. People around her started to rise and file out with urgency in their steps, talking loudly the entire time. Rogue stood and grabbed her three bags, pulling them along as she followed the crowd up several sets of escalators and into the bright mid-morning sun. As the air hit her nose, she became aware of the heavy tang of ash and smoke accompanied by the stench of burning metal and rubber. A thick column of smoke trailed skyward to her right, from behind the King's Cross Train station. Rogue could hear the distant sirens and screams, the sound of people in a panic tugging at her almost physically.

She had been trained by Xavier to help people in situations like this, yet here she was, docilely following a crowd out of harm's way. She felt the urge to break away from the crowd and follow the smell of chaos to help out in any way she could. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord in the direction of the smoke column. Her skills were primarily suited to defense, this was right up her alley. She stopped suddenly, as a policeman passed in front of her, waving bright orange flags to direct the crowd of people to move away from the train station building. What was she doing? She didn't know the situation over there. The police could have it completely under control and her presence could only foul them up. A particularly loud shriek disabused her of the notion that anything was under control behind that stone façade. People were being hurt and were in trouble. She could help.

Rogue dropped her bags on the sidewalk and broke into a run, heading towards the police line surrounding the entrance to the train tracks. Shouts of surprise filled the air as she showed off her agility by twisting between two policemen who tried to grab her and leaping over the ticket barrier. Cobblestone and brickwork flew by under her feet as she followed the screams and sounds of conflict to a platform between numbers 9 and 10.

The sight that met her eyes was strange, even by mutant standards.

A large group of kids her age and younger was crowded together, the youngest ones in the middle, seemingly being protected by the older ones. Their enemies were dressed in black cloaks, their faces covered by white masks. Everyone seemed to be holding a stick which sent flashes of multicolored lights everywhere. Even as Rogue watched in shock that she was trying her hardest to compartmentalize, the black cloaked figure in the lead shot off an ugly burnt red spell that hit a bushy-haired girl, who immediately screamed and fell to the ground in convulsions.

"Hermione!" the scrawny, black-haired boy next to her yelled, flicking his wrist to send a pulse of opaque air back at the attacker. The girl, Hermione, fell limp and unmoving as the rebuff seemed to break off… whatever it was the enemy had been doing.

Rogue found her feet moving forward again of their own accord. She didn't know what exactly was going on, but she knew that if she didn't do something, those kids were going to be hurt, maybe even killed.

She couldn't allow it.

Scowling, she stripped off her gloves and headed into the fray.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, enjoying a warm cup of tea, alternated with a lemon drop and biscuit. While he enjoyed the school year, when the ancient castle filled with the magic and warmth of young, learning minds, he found that this annual cup of tea before the school stormed into session to be a nice little goodbye to summer ritual. Fawkes trilled softly from his perch near the wall, ruffling his mottled feathers, shivering as another one fell out, smoking and crumbling to ashes.

Dumbledore sighed and rose to pet the phoenix lightly. It was close to his burning day. Fawkes hooted, tipping his head to the left as though he was looking over Dumbledore's shoulder.

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Who could be writing today?" Dumbledore wondered aloud as he crossed the room to let the owl inside. The dazzling white plumage of Harry's owl, Hedwig, met his gaze. His brow furrowed in thought. Harry should have been settled on the Express by now, comfortably laughing and catching up with his friends, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley.

"Unless his relatives have kept him from coming back somehow," a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind. He frowned though, Petunia knew the importance of Harry attending Hogwarts, no matter her personal feelings of abandonment and jealousy still harbored towards her sister and magic in general.

He flipped the latch to the window, allowing a small breeze to enter with Hedwig, who promptly alighted on his head and dropped the short piece of parchment precisely into his outstretched hand. Dumbledore unrolled it, scanning his sharp blue eyes over the handwriting of Ms. Granger. The frown on his brow settled in more sharply, his eyes narrowing even as his mind began to mentally prepare plans needed for the next few minutes.

The only thing a blocked barrier could mean was Voldemort's interference. An attack on the students.

Hedwig took off from his head with a shriek. Dumbledore barely noticed as he let the parchment float to the ground, turned slightly and was instantly by the fireplace, kneeling as Hogwarts opened the Floo network for him.

"Moody!" he called out sharply.

The response was instant, Mad-Eye's voice sounding from outside the dark little closet he kept the only Floo access in so as to, as he explained it, keep people out who needn't be in his home.

"Here."

"Attack at King's Cross. Inform your chain of the Order. Summon the aurors. Get to the students as soon as possible. It's mostly the muggleborn students and their families trapped on the muggle side of the barrier."

"Understood," Mad-Eye replied. The connection cut off at once and reopened, looking into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, where Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shaklebolt resided, having returned from escorting the Weasley's to King's Cross via apparition. The two turned to look at Dumbledore with curiosity on their faces.

"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" He demanded.

The two shared a quick glance before Kingsley answered him in his gravelly voice. "They have not yet returned from the station even though it is half an hour after the train has pulled out. It didn't seem very crowded there either."

Dumbledore nodded. "The barrier is closed. I suspect an attack. Inform your chain of the Order and report to the station immediately. The students are in danger, including Harry."

Lupin paled dramatically. He had taken the loss of Sirius at the end of last year hard, and didn't think he could stand it if anything happened to his honorary godson too. The two men stood, drawing their wands. Dumbledore pulled his head from the fireplace, waved his hand so that a letter started writing on his desk to inform Minerva of the situation and looked at Fawkes who bobbed his head and flamed away to bring her to the office, where she could ready the defenses of the school if need be. That done, he straightened his back, hiked up his robes in one hand, and bolted out the door of his office and down stairs.

He mentally gave himself two minutes to reach the edge of the wards, where he could apparate to King's Cross.

His students were in danger and he needed to protect them.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. I am not making any profit from this story._

Chapter Four:

"Wingardium Levioso!" Harry magicked a block of stone that had splintered from the barrier into the path of an incoming Killing Curse directed at him. He would have dodged it if that hadn't meant leaving the younger years and some of the muggleborn's parents that huddled behind him exposed.

Dean stood on his right, straddling Hermione, who was still twitching from the after effects of the pain curse. Colin guarded his left, having given up on trying to keep Dennis in the center with the kids.

"Expelliarius!" Dean shouted, aiming to rid one of the Death Eaters of his wand. The spell hit square on, but the man kept a tight grip on his wand, and shook his hand as though he could be rid of the insistent tugging that way. They had managed to take down five of them so far, working in tandem to stun or injure the attackers enough that they had to portkey away. But it wasn't enough, Harry knew.

They weren't outnumbered but the Death Eaters were a better trained and more cohesive fighting force. The students were at a disadvantage on two counts, since half of them weren't even fighting and the other half had to worry about protecting a stationary target.

Harry hated that he found himself wishing the Order or Dumbledore would show up. He hated that he needed to rely on someone else to come and save them. He should be able to keep the younger years safe from this.

He hissed in pain as an unidentified navy blue spell sliced through his thigh, opening a thick gash, causing him to fall to one knee. Behind him, a younger girl screamed. Harry whipped around, seeing the navy spell end it's course into the stone ground. In its wake were two of the younger children and an adult, each sporting a bright crimson cut across torsos and legs. Their friends were already crowding around, ripping off ties and strips of shirts into make shift bandages and wielding their wands.

"Try 'episkey,'" he shouted, racking his brain for healing spells. It was meant for minor cuts and scraps, he vaguely remember Hermione using it…

A whistling noise cut his thoughts short.

Harry turned back, snapping his wand in a brief defense against a thin chain of fire. The Death Eater who directed it like a whip simply twirled it around his head and sent it back towards the kids. In frustration, Harry screamed, sending a wordless push out from his wand.

The ten Death Eaters within his field of vision were visibly pushed against their legs, causing most of them to fall flat on their faces and breaking their concentration. The students around him cheered and renewed their onslaught of grade school spells.

"Diffindo!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Reducto!" Dean cried, wheezing slightly.

Even Hermione raised her wand weakly to gasp, "Stupefy!"

"Confringo!" Harry spit out, jabbing his wand rather viciously.

Each spell hit a target. Four more Death Eaters were taken down, their colleagues too busy repulsing the student's attack to try and help. Harry felt a sense of pride in their coordination, a learned skill that the members of the DA had managed to refine last year and obviously not forget over the summer months. But it wasn't enough.

Even as he mentally rejoiced and felt a renewed sense of hope, the Death Eaters pushed their attack against the Hogwarts students, a sense of anger and malicious enjoyment underlining the spells that flew towards them.

"Avada Kedevra!"

"Crucio!"

"Expulso!"

"Avada Kedevra!"

"Sectumsempra!"

There was a sense of slow motion as the onslaught approached, Harry thought. There was no way to block both the two killing curses and the pain curse and he had no idea what the other two could do…

"ERECTO TIERRA PROTEGO!" a new voice interjected loudly from behind him. The earth beneath his feet shook suddenly, causing him to pitch to the ground, landing on his injured leg with a groan. A mound of dirt, cracked stone, and pavement rippled out from the group of students, rising a good seven feet above them so that they were sitting in a bowl shaped shield of earth. The section in front of Harry reverberated, the sky showing flashes of green and red as the spells they had been in danger from just seconds before connected with the god-send shield and failed to penetrate the defense.

Harry took the minute to look back again, seeing that, while the younger years and parents hadn't escaped being hurt, no one seemed hurt so bad they couldn't be fixed. Everyone he caught eyes with looked just as confused as he did as to who had cast the spell and, now that they were being protected by it, what they should do in the meantime.

"Harry," he heard. Hermione grabbed weakly at his shirt sleeve to get his attention. "Portkeys. We need to get the kids and muggles out of here while we have a chance."

Harry brightened immediately. "What's the incantation?"

"Portus. Send them to Hogwarts."

Harry flicked his tie over his head and brandished his wand. "Portus," he muttered, holding a clear picture of the castle—safety- in his mind's eye. The tie shimmered an odd blue color before fading back to normal.

"You, you and you, get as many people as you can, specifically the wounded to touch this tie. It will take you to Hogwarts. You'll be safe there," he said rapidly, pointing to three of the younger students. The one boy, a blonde with crystal blue eyes grabbed it and took over shouting at his classmates to grab a hold. By his side, Hermione did the same with her belt.

"Hermione, you should go with them."

She glared at him. "And leave you here to fight? I'll leave when you leave."

"You got hit by the Cruciatus Curse!"

"I'm better now. We need to get the younger years out first and help who ever put up this barrier. They're still on the outside of it- no one in here is skilled enough to hold it for this long, let alone have knowledge of that spell. It's an Auror spell, you know?"

Harry didn't know, and recognized when he was being sidetracked, but decided to let it slide. Together, they summoned stones from the ground around them and transfigured them into belts, scarves, ties—anything that could let a group of people crowd around it to act as a portkey. Outside their cavern, they could still hear shouting, see flashes of light over the rim and feel it as occasional spells hit the walls of earth powerfully enough to shake some dirt loose.

They worked steadily despite that, and the uncertainty of how long the barrier would last, just praying to Merlin it held until everybody could get out.

* * *

Rogue peeled her gloves from her hands, watching the scene in front of her, mind furiously cranking to form a decent strategy. She needed information—she didn't exactly know what she was up against here, only that her only option to combat the long range weapons was to be able to use one against the others. That meant she needed to add yet another personality to her collection, something she was not looking forward to but deemed necessary.

She moved smoothly and rapidly towards the conflict, using the pillars and chunks of architecture strewn around the station for cover, focusing on one black cloaked figure that was steadily circling the group of kids unnoticed, to catch them unawares from the rear. To Rogue's surprise, she noticed a few of the attackers were already knocked out on the ground. Obviously, the kids were more prepared than she thought, but she still thought they wouldn't mind her help.

She held her breathe, as a final barrier stood between and her target. The man was still a few feet too far away from her, but still moving despite one of the kids finally noticing him and trading lights. Rogue watched, willing him to move just a bit further towards her, just a few more steps and she could take him out…

He flicked his wrist, the stick in his hand -"What was so special about a stick to make it into a weapon?" a detached part of her brain wondered—issuing a silver net that caught up two mousy, brown haired boys in it. They struggled to free themselves, their friends stepping up to send two bright red lights back, as a girl jabbed her wand at the trapped duo and shouted something which sounded like 'finite incantatem'. The net disappeared, to Rogue's relief, and all five kids sent a flurry of spells her way. She ducked behind the barrier for protection, peaking out in the next second, to see her target also escaped unscathed. But that didn't matter to her anymore. He was close enough.

She took a deep breath, as much to gather what little control over her emotions as she could as to prep her body for the next few seconds, and launched herself around the barrier and into the air.

She flipped once, hand to ground contact, and flipped upright in the next instant, bringing her leg down with all the momentum of her body behind it to snap on her opponent's shoulder. Something cracked with a jolt of air, and Rogue landed on her feet, facing the white mask which failed to hide the light grey eyes clenched shut in pain, his fingers bracing his shoulder.

Perfect. If Remy were here, he'd congratulate her on the surprise and lithe execution.

"_Oui, Chere_," his psyche whispered. "_Lithe, indeed_."

She reached out and knocked the white mask aside to grasp the man's chin between her first two fingers and thumb. Instantly her mutation kicked in, sucking memories, emotions, knowledge and abilities down her fingertips and morphing into yet another psyche she mentally fought to control. In her mind's eye, she could see the shape of the man start to form. He was a heavy-set guy, about 250 pounds and maybe 6 feet tall. His coloring was very non-descript- light grey eyes, medium brown hair, ruddy complexion. She watched as the man formed into a ghostly apparition, still see through. Around her she could feel the other, friendlier ghosts start to close in, to take control of the man before he tried to take control of her. She nodded to Kitty, Remy, Logan and Kurt before pulling her mind back to the present.

She released the contact, watching dispassionately as the man—Goyle—fell to the ground unconscious. The students who had been attacking him, watched her wearily for a moment before their attention was diverted to helping three students who suddenly supported slashes across their legs and torsos.

She looked at the scene around her again, information merging in her mind from what the man knew. The Hogwarts students were in a bad position, she thought. Hogwarts? She frowned, thinking about the name of a school. Hogwarts, a school for… witchcraft and wizardry. Her eyes widened.

"Magic is real," she breathed, the events around her suddenly shifting in focus to make sense of an entire world hidden from view, much as the mutants hid from discovery back home. The man she had downed, Goyle, was a Death Eater, who did the bidding of some baddie named Voldemort. She was watching a fire fight between wizards casting spells at each other. Their sticks were weapons, wands. They had attacked because… because… that information hadn't come with her hijack of the man's mind. All she got was a vague sense of a threat, something about a boy, the messy, black haired, spit-fire boy fighting front and center to protect the other children. She didn't even have his name.

But she knew she had picked the right side to defend. She looked down at the craven lard who sprawled at her feet, searching with her eyes. There, half hidden under his robe, shiny black ebony, was his wand. She scooped it up (checking to make sure she wasn't holding the 'barrel' end towards herself) and focused back on the fight, sure that while she could access Goyle's memories and abilities, his presence wasn't so strong he could overtake her mind.

She was just in time to hear a barrage of spells being flung by the leader of the attack and the remaining sixteen Death Eaters. Three Unforgivables, a slashing and exploding curse. There was no way they could defend against them all—they needed a shield. Rogue raised the wand in her hand, feeling a rush of power and adrenalin swell from an unknown source inside her and pool just at her fingertips, ready to be directed, to be channeled through the wand.

"A shield, 'Protego.' The Earth, 'Tierra.' To erect or build something, 'Erecto,'" the psyche whispered in her mind, a memory attached of a dark and dank place, long hours studying for a test, the section on protecting large groups of people from harm, even in the face of the Unforgivables.

"ERECTO TIERRA PROTEGO!" Rogue shouted, feeding the magic out through the wand, and not denying the satisfaction that arose from watching the ground mold into the perfect barrier to completely protect the group of students within itself, a bowl to cocoon them from the dark curses.

Her triumph lasted exactly as long as it took the other Death Eaters to realize she had thwarted their efforts to hurt the students and redirect their curses and hexes towards her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the Harry Potter universe or X-men universe. I am not making a profit from this story._

_Warning: There are rather graphic scenes of violence in this chapter. Faint of heart be warned._

_

* * *

_

"_ERECTO TIERRA PROTEGO!" Rogue shouted, feeding the magic out through the wand, and not denying the satisfaction that arose from watching the ground mold into the perfect barrier to completely protect the group of students within itself, a bowl to cocoon them from the dark curses._

_Her triumph lasted exactly as long as it took the other Death Eaters to realize she had thwarted their efforts to hurt the students and redirect their curses and hexes towards her._

"Shit," Rogue spit, diving behind the column as a barrage of curses impacted the cobblestone where she had just stood. Flashes of light spilled off as the curses impacted with the ground and column, a particularly nasty purple colored one leaving a crater the size of dog. Rogue patiently waited for a lull in the attack to sneak a look around the corner. About half of the cloaked men were warily creeping up, wands at the ready for another assault, while the other half steadily took turns firing at the same spot on the barrier she had erected to protect the students.

"Oh, no you don't!" she cried, rolling from her cover, wand naturally coming up to fire off four blasting hexes, as the muscle memory of danger room sessions blended seamlessly with Goyle's memories of duel practices.

Rogue relaxed her mental hold on the newest member of her brain, allowing the battle training to come through with less of a gap between thought and action. Her world narrowed to identifying target positions, initiating the best tactics to take out as many of them as possible while still staying under cover even as she steadily kept firing off curses.

"Confringo! Sectumsempra! Conjunctivis! Confringo!" she hissed. The man who seemed to be in charge of taking down the barrier dropped as did another beside him. The eye blinding curse took out one of the ones directly attacking her. She ducked behind another chunk of rubble, a Crucio streaking mere millimeters past her face. Spots dancing in front of her eyes as she slammed her back against the pillar.

That had been close. Her heart was pounding fast, speeding adrenaline to her shaking muscles. She wished some of the other X-men were here to back her up. There were still… she snuck a look… eleven Death Eaters out there.

"Oh, Gawd, what was Ah thinkin'?" she panted. Her powers were more defensively based then offensive, which was why Logan had always gone hard on her in the danger room sessions, making sure that in any situation she'd be able to defend herself to get away. Not to make sure she could take on a bunch of psycho child killers from a hidden world that had who-knows-what kind of grudge against a black-haired boy. She wasn't sure she could single-handedly wipe the floor with them. Already, she could feel her hold on the Goyle psyche slipping away a little bit at a time. She wouldn't be able to use his powers soon enough, which would put her at a major disadvantage.

Rogue took deep breath, rallying herself for one more surge of curses, before Goyle's powers disappeared entirely. An eerie quiet settled over her, focusing her thoughts on one purpose: to take out as many of the bastards as she could before her course of action became leeching them to unconsciousness. That wouldn't be the greatest thing for her mental health.

"Three, two, one!" she pushed off and darted around the column, crouched low to present a smaller target to the Death Eaters. Her feet steadily took her closer and closer to them even as she rapidly fired off three spells.

"Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!" she hissed. The Death Eaters seemed surprised under their masks as the spells flew not directly at them, but three feet above their heads into the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The result was as though mines had gone off. The barrier exploded, raining huge chunks of rubble down on the group of Death Eaters directly below. Only a few of them were smart enough to erect shields before the spells hit. The other seven of them went down heavily as stone smashed into their heads and torsos. She hoped that it kept them dazed enough to stay out of the battle. Not one of the seven stirred.

There were still four of them left. She brushed past them as they worked to extract themselves from the rubble and their fallen colleagues while still maintaining a personal shield as loose rubble continued to disconnect from the structure.

"Sectumsempra!" she wisphered, aiming at the shortest one.

He moved his hand as though he were smacking the curse away and tripped when his ankle caught on a rock. The group didn't seem very happy with her. She skidded to a halt around the corner of the barrier and leveled Goyle's wand towards them.

The first return attack came as the tallest Death Eater managed to wandlessly levitate himself out of the rubble area while holding the shield as smaller stone continued to rain down around him.

"Girl, you will beg for mercy before I am through with you," his voice resounded through the suddenly quiet air.

Rogue laughed. "As if Ah haven't heard that one before. You can go shove your mercy where the sun don't shine."

"Petrificus totalus. Serpensortia."

Rogue gasped as the clear light of the body binding curse hit her. Her hands and legs sprung together, her body became rigid. The dark wand she had been using slid from her numb fingers. She distinctly heard the clatter as it tapped against the ground and rolled out of reach. The weight of her body balanced for a mere second, before gravity tipped her backwards. As the balls of her feet swung up, she caught sight of the gold and black diamond backed snake that had been conjured.

"Great. A venomous snake. Just what I need," She thought as her back impacted with the ground, driving the breath from her lungs. She felt the last of Goyle's magic slip away as the psyche himself faded into the depths of her mind. She was now completely and utterly helpless as a mad minion strutted towards her with white teeth gleaming through his pearly mask.

* * *

Dumbledore was never so happy to see his students at the Hogwart's gate, despite several of them being injured. He quickly directed them to head inside for cover and to get the hurt ones to Madame Pompfrey. His joy suddenly turned cold as he realized a few faces were missing.

"Where is everybody else?" He inquired. "How did you get here?"

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger made us portkeys, even though Hermione had been hit with a Crucio. They were still in the barrier when we left, but it seemed like the Death Eaters were trying to break it down." Dennis Creevey chimed in helpfully.

Dumbledore looked at Dennis with his bright blue eyes and silently cast, "_Legilimens._"

He saw the barrier, but not who had raised it. He saw the flashes of light indicative of the battle still raging outside of the bowl and watched as Harry and Hermione made portkeys to send to students on to Hogwarts. Dennis was one of the last group of people to leave. The barrier had been attacked with a renewed onslaught and one side was beginning to crumble with every reverberation of spells. It was not going to last long.

He withdrew from Dennis' mind gently. The boy had been one of the last groups there, but no new groups had arrived. From what he could see from Dennis, there were still sixteen older students left, two of whom were injured—Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Worry blossomed anew in his mind. Were they still alive? They had not portkeyed to safety. Dumbledore turned on his heel and disapparated to King's Cross Station.

* * *

Harry cringed as another Death Eater stuck his wand and hand through the crumbling side of the barrier and blindly fired off another curse. The sixteen students left had spread themselves along the sides of the barrier, out of range of the spells being tossed through. Harry was just glad they were all students who had been part of the DA and could defend themselves better than the first years and Muggle parents.

He edged closer to the small break in their cocoon, waiting for the next arm to be shoved through in an attempt to hurt them. The hole was small, only ten centimeters across and at shoulder height running up to the top. The magic seemed to keep the Death Eaters from crumbling the barrier any further, but it was slowly waning.

A few bright balls of lights flew in from the crack and bounced gently to the center of the earthen bowl.

"Flash bomb!" Hermione cried from behind him.

Harry threw his arm over his eyes just as they exploded. He heard the others around him shriek as they were blinded. Quickly he tried to blink the spots away, focusing on the crack, where another arm had appeared, draped in the black sleeve of a cloak. He grabbed it, yanking the wand away and, with only a slight hesitation, cast a cutting curse at close quarters.

The Death Eater screamed in pain and withdrew his stump of an arm rapidly. Harry let the severed limb fall on ground. Sticky red blood stained his shirt, dripping down to mix with the blood from his cut leg. His hands, he noticed dimly, were shaking violently. He could barely hold onto his wand.

Warm hands on his shoulders startled Harry. He turned, his green eyes wide and cheeks pale. Hermione stood behind him, her brow wrinkled.

"It's okay," she whispered, making it sound like half a question.

"N-no. I-it isn't," he responded.

She swallowed hard. They turned back to the hole as another spell was cast in from just the tip of the wand. Another boy, John, leveled his wand facing out of the hole and fired off two smoky gray curses. Howls of pain chorused together.

"What was that?" Harry gasped.

John looked at him with just as wide a pair of eyes. "Retaliation curse. I learned it to deal with bullies. Whoever it hits, it takes the last spell they used and recasts it on themselves. It's a weaker version of the spell but it uses the person's own magic to sustain it for a longer period of time."

"So a cutting curse…"

"Would make the same cut, just…slower… and with less…less force behind it. But it would make the cut."

Harry doubled over and emptied his stomach.

* * *

Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move her eyelids, it hurt to think. She knew that she was opening her eyes, but everything around her stayed blurry. A red sheen of blood dripped into her eyes, stinging them till she was forced to blink.

Carol couldn't remember what happened. Her last memory was being in the car with her parents, driving to King's Cross.

"What happened after that?" she wondered. She remembered fear creeping down her spine, but not why…

She groaned, feeling a tremor pass through her head and work down her spine, jerking her limbs uncontrollably. Agony followed in its wake. Carol let it drown her in darkness.

When she was aware again, there was a muted noise coming from just in front of her. She wanted to shake her head, to make the sound come into focus, but the slightest movement paralyzed her with pain.

She listened, concentrating on the tone, until the tones became syllables and syllables linked together into words and sentences.

"Girl, you will beg for mercy before I am through with you."

A girl's hoarse laughter and then, "As if Ah haven't heard that one before. You can go shove your mercy where the sun don't shine."

"Petrificus totalus. Serpensortia."

Something fell onto the ground right in front of Carol. She could just barely make out the outline of a girl her age lying rigid, and a smaller shape which clattered against the ground and rolled right next to her bloody hand.

She dragged her hand forward to grasp it. Cool wood met her fingers. She lifted it towards the black figure just three meters away.

"Stupefy…" she mumbled, her lips not working quite right. She was half surprised the red light streaked from the wand to drop the Death Eater, seeing as how her concentration was fast waning. A slithering sound captured her attention to her feet.

The snake he had conjured… how could she have let it slip past her? She raised the wand again, her hand trembling too hard for her to aim properly. She tried casting anyways.

"Evanesco."

The snake coiled up, muscles tensing. Carol felt a vague panic building.

"Evanesco!"

It lunged, fangs welcoming the soft flesh of her thigh. She felt the two incisors as they individually sunk past her skin and the hot spread of venom.

"Evan….evanesco!"

The snake vanished but she could still feel the heat radiating from her thigh.

Carol began to cry. She knew now, she was not going to live past this day.

A muffled groan brought her attention back to the girl paralyzed next to her. She used her right arm to drag the rest of her body closer, ignoring the sharp rubble that scraped her belly and legs. She couldn't feel anything, anyways, except her thigh and arm and the pounding ache which radiated from her head.

She wiped tears and blood from her face. She needed to rest so bad, dizziness threatened to sink her into the darkness again. She reached out with her arm and pulled herself closer again. A face materialized in her vision. The girl had curious brunette hair with a red sheen and white streaks which would frame her pale, oval face when she stood upright.

"Hey," Carol sighed. She found her gaze arrested by the girl's hair. It was gorgeous. Carol wished she had hair like that.

A faint buzzing grew in her ears. Her vision was crowded with inky shadows around the edges.

"M'names Carol…" she slurred. Why wasn't her body working right? "Hm 'nna slee…"

She collapsed. Her head landed hard against the ground near the girl's hand. Carol stared, feeling a bit of regret that she didn't have the strength to cast a finite for her, but supposed the spell would wear off soon. She raised her hand and grasped the girl's hand for comfort.

The shadows grew in her eyes and consumed everything.

* * *

_Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

___Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the Harry Potter universe or X-men universe. I am not making a profit from this story._

Chapter Six:

Remy stared at the cell phone in his hand, feeling like an idiot. If only his _p__è__re _could see him now, mooning after a _belle femme_ just because she didn't call when she said she would. Jean Luc would be laughing his ass off if he saw his son now. Normally it was the other way around for Remy, with his self proclaimed title as the ladies' man. He would woo any _femme_ with his charm and wit, have fun for a night in the speakeasies of New Orleans and leave with nary a glance backwards as he walked home in the rising sun, sometimes with shiny trinket in his pocket to show for the night, sometimes with nothing more than memories of laughter and maybe a drink or two if the place didn't check ids.

But to Remy, it was different with Rogue. She didn't put up with his charms and shot back smart remarks just as quick as he did. She made him more respectable, less likely to lift a wallet in the street, even when it was from some moneybags who thought he was better than everyone else because he had a few more nickels to throw around.

Rogue challenged him, made him feel like he wanted to earn her attention. And when she did keep him company, he found that he cherished every moment. That night on the rooftop, when he told her about nearly blowing up his _frère_, he could see that she understood. Nobody, not even his _p__è__re_, had been able to understand exactly how terrifying that moment was. It could easily have turned out that he didn't have the strength to control the kinetic energy that surrounded him. It could easily have been the night he lost his _frère_. He had tried to control it before, when he accidently blew up some heirlooms and even when he held his brother's cat. He hadn't been able to stop himself those times and many times before that. It was when he was looking into his brother's wide eyes that he found himself pushing past his limit. It seemed that being more terrified than he had ever felt before had allowed him to finally begin to rule over his power. With control, he could finally start to view his mutation as a gift rather than a curse.

Rogue understood that, perhaps even better than he did. He had control; she didn't, but was working so hard on it. She could use the mutations she tapped into for almost twenty minutes after absorbing someone and could store the person in her mind so that they didn't affect her nearly as bad as before, even if it wasn't even close to what she really wanted: enough control to touch.

Still, that momentary lapse in keeping the psyches bound within her mind had pushed Rogue just as hard as Remy had been pushed to keep on top of his ability. It was terrifying, and not the step that the Professor would naturally take in their one-on-one sessions, but it was necessary to bring their mutations to heel.

"Remy be Cupid's fool," he muttered to himself. Thinking about her had worked that dull ache in his chest, making it sting that much more to think she wasn't going to be around for four months until Christmas. And even worse, she hadn't even remembered to call him when she got to her campus dorm in London. He shouldn't have expected her to remember, he guessed. How many times had he told a girl he'd call her to meet up again and promptly "lost" the scrap of paper in a garbage bin? It was karma.

A knock at his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts.

"Gambit, you up?" Scott called through the door. "Breakfast is getting cold. And Rahne was asking for help with some French conjugations before you started class."

Remy scowled at the boy who he knew Rogue had had a crush on at some point. She probably wouldn't have forgotten to call if Scott had asked her to.

"Gambit be out in _un moment_," he replied, shaking his head. These thoughts were leading him nowhere. He tossed the cell phone in the middle of his unmade bed, and walked out the bedroom door.

* * *

_As always, constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the Harry Potter universe or X-men universe. I am not making a profit from this story._

Chapter Seven:

She was in a muddy farm field. The corn around her was no taller than her ankles, but even as she watched, it was growing, shooting up impossibly fast. She inhaled and felt a deep sense of nostalgia as the earth invaded her nose, pure and grounded.

"Home," she whispered. Mississippi.

She took a step forward, in the direction she knew would lead to Irene's one story house, just at the edge of this field. Her bare feet dragged through the mud, grinding under her toes. She didn't care, eager to find safety. Her hand reached out and caressed the stalk of corn as it fully developed and split open the husk to reveal a cob of creamy yellow. Her fingers drifted over a few of the little nubs, a tingling sensation building just at her fingertips.

Rogue froze, feeling an unwelcome but familiar roar of pain building. She felt as though she was draining someone, but distantly, as though it was looming over her head but kept back by a flimsy shield. Her fingers trembled against the corn, but never broke contact.

She thought hard. Who was it she had touched last?

A girl… the image rose in her mind, of a girl, leaning over her, blood oozing from a deep wound on her head, rocky splinters embedded in her face and arms. She had spoken, said something, but her words were so slurred, Rogue for a second had hoped the girl was just drunk. Then she collapsed, moaning in pain, was silent.

Rogue frowned, her eyebrows scrunching together. The pain she wanted to avoid felt closer, more real, even as she racked her brain, trying to remember _what happened after the girl collapsed._

She jolted as a hand slide into hers, warm and thin.

_Carol stared at the girl petrified next to her, feeling a bit of regret that she didn't have the strength to cast a finite for her, but supposed the spell would wear off soon. She raised her hand and grasped at the other girl's hand for comfort._

Rogue screamed as the thundering pain crashed over her, like she was being folded into herself and compressed. She felt wounds that didn't exist blossom from her thigh, her head and arms. She collapsed into the earth, not noticing that it trembled with her, the corn around her growing heavy with its burden and letting the cobs fall to the ground and mix with the mud as the stalks dried and wilted in the sun.

She felt the intrusion of memories and emotions not hers seep in through the hand that followed her descent, tightening even as Rogue tried in vain to shake free. Another hand rested against her back, heavy and agonizing against the seizures of her body.

"Please, don't let me go," the girl begged. "Don't let me die."

Rogue could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks as uncontrollable as the fear the other girl felt echoed in her mind. She twisted her head around, fighting every inch to focus past the pain, and stare at the girl full on.

She looked nothing like she had at the train station. Her hair was a golden blonde, falling just past her shoulders with a light wave, her eyes a crystal blue that seemed to plead with Rogue. Her clothes were unwrinkled, free of scorch marks and a blue and bronze tie hung loosely around her neck.

"Let go," Rogue croaked, shaking her head slightly, trying to deny the look of desperation she was being given.

"I can't."

"You have to. I can't let you do this… I can't let you in."

"You must."

"I cannot."

"You must," the girl repeated. She was blinking away tears now too.

"You're too strong!" Rogue cried, suddenly full of rage. "I won't let you take me over!"

"I can't die!" she yelled back, choking on a sob. "I saw the blackness, the shadows, the nothingness—I can't go in there!"

The image was pushed onto Rogue suddenly.

_She was floating in the dark. There was no up, no down, no left or right. There was no light, just complete unnerving absence. She was numb, couldn't even feel her eyelids to tell if she was blinking. She felt none of the pain that suffocated her senses, but overwhelming that was the complete apathy. It was difficult to tell how long she had been here—seconds, weeks, years, an eternity. She wanted out. She wanted to feel again. Anything to not be here._

_She waited. The darkness never wavered; never gave any hint of ending. She tried to recall what was before, but it wouldn't come, as though everything she had known had bled away. She tried to move and couldn't tell if it was her imagination that she had arms or if that really was how she was put together. There was no sense that she existed beyond the thought of "I"._

_She floated in the dark._

Rogue gasped, a renewal of life and pain flooding through her, turned almost to ecstasy in her relief to be back. She shivered, each ache individual in its intensity.

The girl tugged her hand to get her attention. "Let me in."

Rogue opened her eyes, staring into the blue orbs dully. "No."

She smiled back sadly, "What's my name?"

Rogue took a deep breath, seeing the name form in her mind, but refusing to speak it aloud. Her vision of the field seemed to pulse, once, twice. The girl stared at her calmly, ignoring everything but Rogue's struggle not to name her. If she did, it would open the floodgate to more of the psyche's memories, and she would lose this battle.

What's my name?" the girl asked again, her voice impossibly gentle.

Rogue's hand clenched with anger around a cob discarded in the mud, squeezing until it snapped in half. She opened her mouth, intending to scream with the frustration of it all.

That was when the girl pushed something between their minds, between the connect fostered by their grasp. Rogue's scream twisted before the sound could even grow in volume, into a single word, uttered with all the emotions and pain swirling through her at that moment.

"Carol."

And the dam broke.

* * *

Dumbledore pushed his half moon glasses back up the bridge of his nose from where they had slid during the brief, but fast paced duel with the two remaining Death Eaters. In the end, a pair of Confundus charms and Jelly-Legs Jinxes left the two slouched against each other in befuddlement, drooling slightly as they babbled to one another like toddlers.

Dumbledore grimanced slightly to himself. He may have slightly overdone the Confundus charm on the two.

Their comrades, all eighteen of them, were scattered around the train station, some amidst the rubble of the barrier leading to platform 9¾, and some spread along the outside of the curious earthen barrier which Dumbledore had seen in Colin's memories.

The Aurors had arrived towards the end of his duel, and were now scattered about the station, using Incarcerous to tie up the Death Eaters for transport to a ministry holding cell before a mass trial. A few were also working to break down the barrier, talking through a hole in the side with the students still in there to bring it down as carefully as possible.

Dumbledore swept towards them, wanting to make sure his students were safe and to see if he could lend his assistance. As he approached he could see Moody, in wrinkled red Auror robes eying the structure with interest through his magical eye. He nodded his head to the side slightly as Dumbledore approached, acknowledging his presence, but not speaking.

Dumbledore waited, studying the barrier with his own sight. He let his eyes blur, relax as ghostly white shapes formed against the barrier. Arithmancy runes. Interesting. There were three main ruins, related to the spoken spell that formed this barrier, which any Auror could produce, though it required intense concentration to keep the barrier from collapsing. But he found his attention ensnared by the smaller runes in the background, nearly sunk into the barrier, more mist than fog like the main ones.

They read of the caster's will power and intent, rather than slight clarifications for the construction. It was as though the caster knew the spoken spell and had a great wish to protect the students, but beyond that, had channeled the power of accidental magic into the casting. Interesting.

"The spell should have failed by now, Dumbledore." Moody grunted.

"Yes, it should have. But this construction is vastly different from a normal construction of the spell."

"It's like the person didn't know what he was doing."

"I think he knew exactly what he was doing. Protecting the students." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in amusement as his friend snorted.

"You want to recruit this person."

He didn't clarify what Dumbledore wanted to recruit them for, but they both knew. The Order, while containing many strong willed people with their own strengths, lacked the number of people to match Voldemort's Death Eaters. If one person could erect a shield of this complexity without proper training, what they could do with more schooling would be incredible.

Dumbldore refocused his eyes, turning to glance at the damage of the rest of the station. It was incredible. The barrier to Platform 9 ¾ was almost completely obliterated, nothing more than rubble around most of the Death Eaters. Several other barriers were scorched and crumbling, and the entire ground was wrinkled and shifted in to where the land had been pulled together to form the barrier.

"I wonder," he mused aloud, as Moody turned to face him fully, his magical eye once more rolling every which way alert for signs of danger. "If the group that fought the Death Eater's would be share information with us. Assist us, if possible. Were there any clues as to who they were, where they went after the battle?"

Moody was silent for a moment.

"I don't think it was a group. I think it was one person."

Dumbledore looked at him with his eyebrows raised. "Explain."

Moody raised his wand like he was conducting, using it to point at different areas of the ruins around them. "The attacks from the Death Eaters started by being aimed at the students, which we can see from the barrier. When that was cast, they turned their attention and aim to that barrier," he jabbed his wand towards one of the slightly father away barriers that was almost completely demolished.

"That barrier would have only been big enough for two people to take cover behind and not for very long with the amount of spells that would have been cast at it. If there was more than one person, the Death Eater's attacks would have been concentrated in more than one place."

"After the defender left the barrier, they dodged behind the other barriers, moving quickly and avoiding fire. This is standard Auror battle tactics, albeit used in an unconventional way." Moody stopped for a breath, poking his finger into his left ear and jiggling it, as though to dislodge water.

"The defender then rushed straight at the main group of Death Eaters who were firing at him, and sent off three reducto's at the entrance to the platform, which had the effect of disabling the majority of Death Eaters. Some more spells were tossed around after that, some of it is your doing, but I can't tell exactly what happened or where the defender went."

Dumbledore sighed, "A student's memories show that all the students were enclosed in the barrier, so they didn't see anything about this person either."

A shout behind them gathered their attention.

"Stand back!" An Auror shouted. "The barrier is coming down."

A group of five other red clad Aurors had their wands trained on the barrier, sweat glistening off their brows as they drew runes in the air for the careful deconstruction of the earth cocoon. Slowly, the top started to crumble, the ground shaking a little. The bottom rippled, and seemed to slid slowly down and outwards, sinking back into the earth from which it came. Inch by inch, the barrier sank, until the hair, then faces, then shoulders and torsos of the Hogwart's students were revealed. Harry Potter, Dumbledore was alarmed to see, was bleeding from a deep cut on his thigh and leaning heavily on Colin Creevey as Hermione Granger shook lightly, and slumped against a Hufflepuff student.

All of the students were pale and looking faintly green around the edges. Dumbledore felt a deep regret seeing them. Students should not have to fight their parent's war.

Someone tugged at his sleeve. He glanced their way, surprised to see a Hogwart's graduate from two years before in the red Auror robes.

"Mr. Grimoire," he greeted him solemnly. "Ravenclaw '95. Congratulations on your speedy completion of the Auror training program."

The man flushed red, mumbling a thanks and cleared his throat. "There's something you need to see, Headmaster. It's not good."

Grimoire turned and hurried away, Dumbledore gliding just behind him, his robes billowing with each speedy step he took. They headed around the platform 9 ¾ barrier, where a small group of Aurors had their wands trained on three figures on the ground.

One was a tall man sprawled on the group, under the effects of a stupefy, from the looks of it. Dumbledore bent and removed the white mask, revealing the blond, aristocratic features of Lucius Malfoy. A woman near to him gasped and two men murmured to each other.

He made no comment, even when someone muttered, "Finally the bastard will be locked up."

He moved around Malfoy, to look at the others. Two young women were laying side by side, one cut and bloodied and an ashen pale that made the bottom of Dumbledore's stomach drop out. He felt his eyes sting as sorrow flooded through him.

_He had failed to protect his students._

The other was rigidly lying there, suggesting the body-bind curse. Her eyes were closed, though, a sign of unconsciousness.

Grimoire looked at him. "Were they—ahm—are they Hogwart's students?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Why aren't the healers working on them?"

"They haven't yet arrived. The one girl, she…" he trailed off, looking helpless.

"She's dead." Dumbledore knew his voice was heavy with grief and that he was projecting it onto the others, but could not find it in himself to put up his normal, twinkling eyes Headmaster persona.

"Yes, sir," Grimoire confirmed.

Dumbledore hung his head, tears sliding down the tip of his nose and splashing to the ground. Silence suffocated the group.

"She was Ravenclaw, a sixth year. Her name—her name is Carol Danvers."

"Yes, sir. Her parents will be informed."

Dumbledore nodded. "The other girl… she is not a Hogwart's student."

He paused, as the tears blurred his vision, and unconsciously pulled up his mage sight.

"I do not otherwise know her, but… she is a witch."

* * *

_A/N: Review please! I want to make my writing better!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I'm not making any profit off this story._

* * *

Chapter Eight:

_Carol was six years old. It was Christmas Eve and her parents were in their bedroom, talking softly behind their closed door. Her dad had put her to bed, reading a chapter out of Sherlock Holmes until she let her eyes drift closed and breathing even out, waiting for him to leave. She couldn't stop the soft giggle that escaped as he finally shut the bedroom door and padded out of hearing range down the hall._

"This isn't me."

_Moving quietly as she could, Carol scooted the covers back from her bed, dropping first one, then the other foot over the edge to touch the fuzzy carpeted floor. The air was chilly, but she didn't want to miss seeing Santa come and drop off her presents. She tiptoed over to her door, gently pulling it open on smooth, quiet hinges. She waited a second, looking at the sliver of light shining from beneath her parents door. A few minutes passed until the voices mellowed out, their ceiling light was flicked off. Carol grinned as she hurried back to her bed, pulling the covers off and trailing them behind her as she left the bedroom and walked down the hall and stairs. Their living room was aglow with the lights of the Christmas tree._

_"Like fairies," Carol thought to herself. One day, she'd find a real fairy and capture it until it was her friend and told her all about itself and all the other creatures that she just knew were out there._

"There's no such thing as all that. Mutants are about as weird as you get, sugah."

_Carol's attention was caught by the odd shapes at the base of the Christmas tree._

_"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, and instantly raised her hand to cover her mouth, wary of disturbing her parents. She'd missed Santa, the fleet-footed fox. He must have snuck in when Dad was reading to her. Next year, she vowed, she'd catch him._

"Hate to burst your bubble but there is no Santa, either."

_She turned to head back to her bedroom, when a brief movement caught her eye. Curious, she crept forward, seeking what had caught her attention. Behind a kayak her mum had asked for to use at their lake house, a steel cage her size rested. In it, a football sized, golden puppy kicked in his sleep, front paws jerking as though he was chasing a cat._

_Carol hardly dared to breath, she was so excited. "A puppy!" she thought. She had been begging her parents for a puppy for a long time now, and they had always told her not until she was responsible enough to take care of it. Apparently Santa had decided she was responsible now—and she knew what that meant too. It meant she would feed him, wash him, take him on walks to the park nearby, and train him to do a bunch of tricks!_

_"You need a name, mister," she said sternly, hunching down in front of the bars. As if he heard her, the pup blinked himself awake, tail already wagging at the sight of a two-legger to play with._

_"Yip, yip!" the dog shattered the silence of the house._

_"Shhh!" Carol told him frantically. "You'll wake up Mum and Dad!" The pup continued to yap, pushing his nose through the bars to sniff at her hand, even as Carol registered the sound of her dad stumbling down the stairs in his sleepy steps._

_She didn't want to be caught down here, her dad wouldn't think she was responsible enough to take care of a dog then! She shifted behind the kayak more fully, squatting to pull the blanket over her head. It wouldn't really keep her hidden, she thought, but it was too late to try and sneak out of the living room._

_"I wanna keep the puppy," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Don't wanna be caught downstairs. Puppy. Already named him too." She thought desperately. "His name's Choco, and he's mine and I don't want Daddy to say I can't keep him cause I didn't wait till morning to see my presents…"_

_She could hear the footsteps of her Dad in the room now, his quiet grumbling, "You silly dog, you're going to wake Carol and ruin the surprise! Hush now, you silly pup."_

_Choco whimpered, but settled down on the doggie pillow in the corner of the cage. Carol hardly dared to breathe, something telling her that if she moved even an inch, her dad would notice her squatting right there next to the cage. She could feel this as though it was as much a fact as the multiplication table she'd had to memorize in school._

"He's gonna see you any minute now."

_Her dad straightened from petting the lab from the outside of the cage and turned as if to head out. Carol released her breath with a woosh. He halted, pausing to squint in her direction. She froze, a giggle threatening to escape. It was like she was playing hide and seek but it didn't matter if she hid, cause she wouldn't be found anyway. Her dad broke his staring to yawn widely and shuffled away rubbing his eyes._

_She reached through the bars to pet Choco herself, feeling inordinately pleased._

She felt the smug satisfaction as though it were her who had played the trick. Yet—"This isn't me," she screamed.

_Kilometers away, Headmaster Dumbledore looked up as one of the silver instruments on his shelf whistled and a name floated out of the center of a hollow globe in ghostly black ink to affix itself to the front of an envelope. It read: Carol Danvers, London, UK: Notice-Me-Not Charm._

* * *

Healer Adonis, adorned with the royal blue robes that marked her profession, hissed through her teeth in frustration as she hurriedly pull on her dragonhide examination gloves. "Hold her down!" she shouted to the two orderlies in lighter blue robes even as she rolled the girl to her side and held the shoulders still as she could. The girl's white striped hair jerked wildly, in time with the seizures racking through her body. Her mouth was clenched shut and Adonis could swear she could hear the teeth grinding together and cracking under the pressure. The girl emitted occasional wails, muffled by her shut mouth, but distinguishable from the sheer agony they sounded.

One of the orderlies grabbed the girl's torso with sure hands, while the other attempted to catch her flailing legs. His first grab missed and he backed away, clutching his side where he'd been kicked, before successfully grabbing both the brunette's ankles to hold her still.

"The aurors must have been mistaken, she's suffering from something besides a simple body-bind and stupefy!" He shouted over the hustle of the hallway of St. Mungo's. Nearby several other healers attended a bushy haired girl in a Gryffindor tie and a black haired boy that was rumored to be the Boy-Who-Lived. Dumbledore and Mad Eye Moody kept watch over the two, and a full squad of Aurors stood at attention on either end of the hallway. A man in Unspeakable robes- black, with a hood over his features- stood over the body of Carol Danvers. He was the only one standing still in the whole mess.

"It's not stopping!" Adonis cried. "Jenkins, grab a sedative potion!" Jenkins let go of the girl's torso and rushed into the stockroom, his long brown braid whipping around the corner behind him.

* * *

_The letter was heavy, it's weight more than a regular, crisp, white envelope. It reminded Carol of the parchment of old documents carefully preserved behind glass in museums. But this wasn't in a museum; it was in her hands, having arrived with the Thursday mail the morning of her eleventh birthday, addressed as such:_

_Carol Danvers_

_The Kitchen_

_London, UK_

_"What is it, dear?" Her mother inquired. Carol shrugged and turned it over, looking at the seal— a crest really. A badger, a raven, a griffin, and a snake surrounded the capitalized H. An indescribable feeling of curiosity, of joy, of satisfaction filled her as she broke the wax and unfolded the letter, drinking in the words from the page._

_"I'm a witch, Mum." She said, as though it were an everyday occurrence._

_Her mum looked up, startled from where she was stirring pancake batter. A slow grin broke across her face. "Of course you are, hun." Carol could practically hear the patronization._

_"No, really," she insisted, waving the letter around. "I'm going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"_

* * *

_No. I'M not going there. I'M not a witch. I'M A MUTANT. This isn't me, this isn't my life, not my memories, not me, won't let it be me. Won't let her suffocate me, won't let her take me over, won't let her push me out of my own body, won't let her control me. I am Rogue. Not Carol—never Carol._

* * *

_She was three, giggling at the goofy faces her dad made as she was rocked in her mother's arms. She was eleven, watching in awe as the boat swung around the bend to reveal her first glimpse of Hogwarts. She was six, wobbling in the seat of a bike as her dad ran beside her, holding his arms out, just in case. She was fourteen, watching in horror as Harry Potter's name was spit out of the goblet as the fourth champion. Already the Ravenclaws around her huddled to theorize why. She was nine years old and trying on her mum's make-up, pouting her lips like the models on the telly. She was celebrating her 16__th__ birthday with her family, wandering around Diagon Ally for school supplies. She was twelve, sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, listening to the other girls in her year giggle. She shushed them, trying to concentrate on a Potion's essay. They roll their eyes and continue gossiping. She was fifteen and practicing the Patronus charm, listening to two boys talking behind her in the classroom about the rumors that Harry Potter said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back. She thought he might be right—just look at all the trouble that followed the boy._

* * *

_"Not me, don't care. Don't need to know this, cause it's not my life, not my problems. I'm gonna get back to the mansion and get Professor Xavier to wipe you out."_

_"No."_

_…_

_"You are not real. Just a psyche—"_

_"I'm here to stay, Rogue. I'm not going to die. For that, I thank you."_

* * *

Healer Adonis snatched the sedative potion from Jenkin's hand as soon as he was within distance. The patient's tremors had subsided for the moment, but Adonis could feel the muscles still tensing and relaxing under her hand, a sign of more seizures to come.

"Quickly, now," she snapped, "Get her torso upright so I can get this in her. That's it, support her neck." The two assistants diligently held her upright, Jenkins opening her mouth from the vise clamp it had been before.

Adonis carefully poured the potion into the girl's mouth, massaging her neck when it appeared she wouldn't swallow by herself. A hint of the vanilla and chamomile wafted back towards her nose. Slowly, the girl relaxed fully, her fingers unclenching, her breathing evening out and her eyes stopping the wild rolling they had been doing previously.

After she was repositioned on the healing bed, Adonis waved her wand over the prone body, performing a body scan to see if the potion dealt with all the after affects of whatever spells had been cast on the poor girl.

She frowned and recast, narrowing the probe to just the magical parts of the body.

"Headmaster?" she called out.

Dumbledore broke off his conversation with Harry Potter to join Adonis.

"Yes, m'dear?"

"The girl appears to be okay now, but I think I know why she was having seizures."

Adonis stopped herself, recasting the probe for a third time, just to make certain. From the way Dumbledore had let his eyes go glassy, Adonis had the sneaking suspicion he was using mage sight to check her results. That was okay, though, it make explaining the anomaly easier.

"You see it?" She asked.

"Yes," he murmered absently. "Incredible."

"Do you think so?" Her voice came out pitched higher than normal. She cleared her voice and tried again. "It… her magical core… well, a magical core is in the process of attaching itself to her, creating new pathways… sir, I see how this is a fascinating process, but it's unnatural! I mean, you're either born a wizard or not, you can't just suddenly sprout a magical core and integrate it into your being!"

She was on the verge of hysteria, some remote part of her mind registered. Yet, she had a very good reason to be hysterical. Magic could not be stolen, that was crock fed to the scum that called themselves Death Eaters and prided themselves on being Purebloods. If it turned out to be true… You-Know-Who's campaign party would have a field day.

Dumbledore turned to her, his bright blue eyes sharp. "Healer Adonis, I trust you understand the magnitude of disaster that could occur should this girl's… condition be brandied about?"

She could only nod, her breathing still slight elevated.

"Then I trust you will abide by patient confidentiality. Perhaps we could even help keep her situation under wraps by having her transferred to Hogwart's medical bay, where Healer Pomfrey can attend to her with utmost attention?"

"If you believe that's best…" she whispered, still slightly stunned.

She needed a drink.

* * *

_A/N: As always, criticism is greatly welcomed!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. I'm not making a profit on this story._

_A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's kept with me this far._

* * *

Chapter Nine:

Charles Xavier folded his hands together atop his antique cherry desk and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Are you sure?" he inquired to the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Xavier," replied the secretary for Westminster from the speaker. "Anna Marie didn't arrive for check-in this morning and hasn't been seen since disembarking from the plane at 9 am in Heathrow airport. We've issued an alert, but with all the chaos from the bombing at King's Cross, it's not going to gather much attention. I know you have… better resources to deal with this, so I thought you might like to know first."

"First?" Xavier inquired.

"Well, the next contact listed here is Raven Darkholme, Anna Marie's mother."

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't say that Ro- Anna Marie would have listed her as a contact. They're relationship, as I understand it, is strained."

"It's true Anna Marie didn't include her in the initial paperwork, but it somehow appears she was added as a contact at a later date. Maybe she changed her mind?"

"Unlikely," he thought to himself.

Aloud he replied, "It is possible, I suppose. However, I would recommend you hold off on informing Raven Darkholme until we know more."

There was a short silence. "We can't legally do that."

"I understand. Well, Miss Smith, thank you for alerting me and I ask only that you keep us updated if anything changes."

"Of course, Mr. Xavier."

He ended the call and resisted the urge to brood over Mystique's intent in adding her name to Rogue's emergency contact list. Instead, he raised two fingers to his temple, sending out a telepathic inquiry, trying to see if he could make contact with Rogue, despite the long distance.

As expected, there was no answer.

"That doesn't mean much," he reassured himself aloud. It was a great distance. He backed up his wheelchair from behind the desk and headed out of the office, towards the elevator and Cerebro.

He thought about the conundrum he was in as the elevator doors swung open and he wheeled inside. There wasn't a good chance that he'd be able to pick her up using Cerebro, unless she was currently using her powers. Given the circumstance, Xavier didn't know if he'd be more relieved that she was using her powers and locatable, or that she wasn't forced to defend herself using (in her eyes) a last resort weapon but was well and truly missing.

The elevator dinged to let him know he was in the sublevels. He moved forward and into the cool, grey halls, familiar turns automatic in his preoccupied state.

"Welcome, Xavier," the mechanical voice greeted him. The chamber door rolled back to reveal the hallow globe occupied only by the extended platform that boasted the heart of Cerebro's machine. He rolled in, arms reaching for the helmet.

Fifteen minutes later, he sat back, exhausted from searching every corner of the Earth. It was certain—wherever Rogue was, she was not using her powers and she was unconscious to a mental bridge rapport. He sighed heavily and put two fingers to his temple to send out a short range message.

_X-men, I need to see you in my office immediately. Rogue's gone missing._

* * *

Harry hissed in pain as he shifted on his bed in the infirmary of Hogwarts. They had all been transferred there under the care of Madame Pomfrey yesterday night—him, Hermione, and the unconscious girl that had apparently saved them at King's Cross. Dumbldore had said it would be easier to keep them safe and block the media from getting pictures.

Harry grimaced. He wasn't sure if it was more at the "keep them safe" or "keep the media from getting pictures", but it was rapidly becoming apparent that the only one he could count on to keep himself safe was, well, himself. But he couldn't even manage that much, could he?

He peeled back the thin sheet on the bed to once more examine his leg. It was an angry red, barely held together with twenty black stitches. He knew that across the room, several others who had been hit by the same curse would have just as many stitches. And it was entirely his fault for not blocking the curse before it hit anyone.

He also knew that it was his fault for not making sure Carol Danvers had been with them when it became apparent that the students were under attack. He had abandoned a Hogwarts student; she had been defenseless and alone. She had paid for his inattention and brashness in rushing towards the fight. Hermione had suffered from the Cruciatus curse and was still recovering from the damage to her nerves. If he just knew more spells, knew Auror battle tactics, if he had known the earth shield spell himself instead of that girl— it was a mantra that replayed through his mind over and over, _"If only I had known…"_

Madame Pomfrey bustled out from her office, exactly half an hour since she made her last rounds. She clucked her lips upon approaching Harry's bed.

"Now, now, Mr. Potter. You need to sleep. This cut can only be healed so much with magic. The topical damage has to heal the old fashioned way—without magic. So lay back and get some shut eye."

Harry rolled his eyes but acquiesced. As he settled back, his eyes landed on the strange striped-haired girl sleeping to his right.

"I wonder how she did it," he thought. "I wonder if she would teach me."

Pomfrey poked a bit at his leg and did a few scans as he thought more, about the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore at St. Mungo's.

_"How many were hurt?" Harry asked, pleading with his bright green eyes._

_Dumbledore was looking unusually grave as he watched the Healers clean and put stitches in Harry's leg._

_"Save for Ms. Danver… no one was hurt so bad that they can't be fixed. Worry about yourself for now, Harry. Rest and heal."_

_"How can I rest when Carol is dead? She was standing right there when it began and we left her! And all the others, the younger students—I was supposed to protect them!" Harry pounded his fist on the gurney, yelping as the Healer missed the numbed edges of the cut and poked his knee with the needle._

_"Harry, please—"_

_"No! Let me finish!" Harry leaned in close, lowering his voice to a murmur. "I'm the one in the prophecy, the one who's supposed to… who has to…" he broke off with a noise that resembled a suppressed sob. His shoulders shook for an instant before he straightened his back. "How am I supposed to accomplish anything, if I can't even defend myself?"_

_He gestured to the girl across the room, even as she writhed with a seizure. "How can I do something meaningful, if my survival to this point has always relied on luck? Sirius died because I didn't have knowledge of the prophecy. Carol Danvers is dead because I don't know how to fight properly and half of Hogwart's students are alive _only_ because that girl showed up in the nick of time."_

_"Harry," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't punish yourself because of this. It was Death Eaters and Voldemort that did this, not you."_

_"But if I had training, I could have done a lot more about it." Harry said coldly. "That's all I'm asking for. If I have to fulfill this prophecy, let me have the tools to do so."_

_Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply. "I—"_

_"Headmaster!" the head Healer called out from the girl's side. The Headmaster and Harry both turned to look at her. She looked troubled, gazing with Mage sight at the girl's vitals._

_Dumbledore turned back, looking regretful. "We will continue this conversation later, Harry."_

_Harry clenched his fingers in the sheets of the gurney and watched as the Headmaster walked away._

He broke out of his thoughts as Pomfrey tucked the sheet up around him, smiling tenderly, and moved on to a boy across the room, who was crying softly in his sleep. Harry watched for a moment as Pomfrey woke him with gentle words and soothing his blonde hair. Something in him softened a bit at the sight, a little of the anger he'd been holding onto since the adrenaline of the battle washed away bleeding away. He let his head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the wood rafters in the ceiling. His vision blurred with tears he couldn't let fall but accurately expressed the muddle of his emotions.

"I'll fix this," he whispered. "Somehow, I'll fix this."

Shortly after, to the lullaby Pomfrey was humming across the room, he fell into a fitful sleep of bright red lights, dancing wands, and a high pitched, shrieking laughter that echoed all around him.

* * *

Remy felt like the floor of Xavier's office was falling out from under his feet. Everyone around him was trying to talk over each other, asking what had happened, where Rogue was last seen, what time it had been, when they were leaving to go find her, and if it had anything to do with the bombing at King's Cross.

"But _chere_ didn't have any reason to be dere…" Remy thought. He hoped desperately that she hadn't been hurt.

"SHUT YOUR TRAPS!" Logan yelled, finally quieting the room. Cyclops scowled but fell silent. Jean dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes, while Kitty and Kurt could have passed as relatives from the similar way they wrung their hands together and fidgeted in distress. Remy couldn't blame them though; he wanted to be out there, doing something now to find Rogue. So many questions bubbled on the tip of his tongue.

"So den," he spoke up, his fingers unconsciously shuffling and reshuffling a deck of cards, "what we gon' t' do 'bout gettin' de Rogue back wit us, safe a' sound?"

Xavier leaned forward over his desk. "We know where she was last seen. I propose the obvious solution: send over a team to track her down from Heathrow airport. Kitty, I want you to see what you can find from the public surveillance. Logan, I want you to try and track her on site."

"Chuck—" Logan started to interrupt.

"I know a scent trail might have been lost in the crowd by now, but it is worth a try."

Xavier waited for Logan to agree before continuing. "Gambit, I want you to see if you have any contacts on the underground in London, if there's anything going on that we aren't aware of. Kurt, you will be able to help with maneuverability. Jean, you may be able to pick up some thoughts of witnesses—they may not realize what they've seen. Scott, you will be coordinating everyone from the Blackbird. I will stay behind and continue searching through Cerebro."

Remy found himself nodding along with everyone else, determination fueling his blood. The X-men were the best, and the best would bring Rogue home.

"Well," Logan spit out. "What are you waiting for? Go suit—"

_WHAM!_

The doors to Professor X's office collided with the wall. Remy automatically pivoted and raised a charged card against the intruder. Beside him, Logan was growling and brandishing his adamantium claws. Storm's eyes had clouded over, lightening playing between her fingers. Even Scott had his fingers poised over his visor, ready to fire.

Mystique towered in the doorframe. Behind her, Irene stood, one hand against the wall and a frown engraved in her forehead. Mystique's countenance, Remy thought, suggested that if she wasn't so pissed off, she might be amused at their reaction. As things stood, however, she was not in the mood for games.

"You!" she jabbed her finger towards Xavier. "You tried to get Westminster not to tell me that _my daughter _is missing? Did you think I wouldn't want to help find her? You—you balding— senile— incompetent son of a—"

"You're just in time, Raven, Irene," Xavier smiled calmly up at her. "X-men, Mystique and Destiny will be joining the search party to help in any way they can. Now you heard Logan— suit up and head out. It's time to bring Rogue home."

"_Merde_," Remy muttered. "_Chere_'s not gonna be happy 'bout dis."

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning to Hermione in the bed on his left talking softly with some familiar voices.

"Professor Lupin? Ron?" he asked fuzzily. He patted his hand around on the nightstand, looking blindly for his glasses.

They were handed to him gently, earpieces already flipped out. Harry slid them on, the haggard face of Remus Lupin materializing. Harry was startled to see new wrinkles across Lupin's forehead, and deep circles under his eyes. Behind him, Ron was perched on the side of Hermione's bed, holding her hand, but looking with concern at Harry.

"How many times must I tell you, I'm not your professor anymore. Call me Remus, please," Lupin spoke softly, settling back into a chair between Harry and Hermione's beds.

"Sorry, professor… Er, habit." Harry smiled. Lupin returned it with a small upturn of the corner of his mouth.

"Harry!" Ron cried. "You okay, mate? Everything was fine on the train till it started to pull out and we realized it was barely half full. Course the Slytherins were all huddled up together, should've realized something was up then, the slimy ba—"

"Language!" Hermione interrupted at the same time as Lupin cleared his throat.

"I'm fine, Ron. It's Hermione I'm more worried about. You took a Crucio," he responded.

She blushed as the three scrutinized her for any sign of discomfort. "I'm fine, really. They gave me a potion for the nerve damage and a sleeping draught. This is actually the first time I've been awake since St. Mungo's. Do we know what happened? Who put up the earth shield? How many were injured? Did they capture all the Death Eaters?"

"Whoa, Hermione, one at a time!" Ron said, laughing. He sobered up pretty quick though. "First of all, I'm sorry I wasn't there with you two. I should have had your back."

Harry spoke up. "Ron, don't. No one could have known what was going to happen. I'm just glad you weren't in the line of fire."

"Yeah, well, just the same." Ron muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyways, Mum, Dad, Remus, and Kingsley escorted my family and the Lovegoods by side along apparition to 9 ¾ and we boarded the train. Remus and Kingley left while Mum and Dad stayed to see us off. Dad said it seemed really empty, but no one noticed the barrier was sealed and a one way anti-apparition ward was up until the train pulled out with us on it."

Remus took over. "Dumbledore got your owl and informed us there was an attack on the platform. Moody summoned the Aurors and apparated on the Muggle side, while Kingsley and I took the Order and apparated onto 9 ¾. But by that time, the one way ward was up and we were stuck there. Most the Death Eater's had disapparated once their kids were on the Hogwart's Express and were ready to attack a bit before eleven. We tried to break the seal on the barrier when we arrived but nothing worked—it was warded by a professional.

"Yeah, Bill said he couldn't even get through it and he works for Gringotts."

"Then at eleven, the platform barrier exploded and we were busy helping the people who got injured— nothing a few healing charms couldn't fix!" Remus said quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth in worry. "Dumbledore and the Aurors subdued the Death Eaters on the other side, broke the apparition ward, and began cleaning up the area. The barrier is going to have to be rebuilt—it'll be tricky 'cause that bit of magic was pretty old. Albus was just a boy when it was erected."

Harry grinned, trying to think of Dumbledore as a child. For some reason, the beard stayed no matter what he tried to picture.

"As for the earth shield you two got caught in, Dumbledore seems to think that girl over there put it up, but she's not really trained. Powerful, to be certain, but untrained," Remus finished, waving his hand to the bed on the other side of Harry.

The group looked at the girl, still sleeping, in curiosity.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry replied.

"She was having seizures at St. Mungo's," Hermione chipped in.

"Dumbledore," Remus started.

"Yeah?" Harry prompted when it became apparent Lupin was thinking about something. He started a bit and shook his head.

"Nothing."

Harry stiffened. "Remus, if you know something else, I'd like to be kept informed."

"It isn't something that's my place to tell."

"Who's is it?"

"Hers. Or when Dumbledore decides."

Harry looked down at his hands, digging his nails into the skin. The anger and frustration he'd managed to forget about for a while roared back in full force at those words.

"When Dumbledore decides I need to know something, it's generally too late and someone has died."

Ron and Hermione were silent in the background, knowing that Harry was still grieving for Sirius and that this was something he needed to get out. Lupin apparently did not agree.

"He was only trying to protect you."

Harry looked up in shock. "You knew?"

"What?" Lupin seemed confused.

"About the prophecy? You knew?"

Lupin leaned forward in the chair rubbing his hands on his knees. "I knew there was a prophecy. I don't know what it said, but Lily and James did—that's why they went into hiding with you. Dumbledore has never confided in me the contents. But I trust him." He looked pointedly at Harry. "To be honest, it doesn't seem that hard to figure out, though. It's something to do with you and Voldemort. I suspect that the media's label of "the Chosen One" isn't all that far off. But, Harry, you shouldn't have to bear this alone."

He reached out and swiped hair out of Harry's eyes. "You are a child still. Not an adult and most certainly not an Auror, a fighter. I remember holding you in my arms as an infant. Sirius held you in his arms as a baby. He gave you rides as Padfoot, and you called him Paddy. I can't… I can't bear to lose you too," he nearly whispered.

"Remus.."

Lupin held up a hand. "I'm not finished. I understand that you are angry. But trust me when I say that Dumbledore is only doing what he thinks is right and the majority of the time, it is. That said, I have never been so scared in my life for you than during the attack yesterday. You were by yourself, and I wasn't there to protect you. No one was. I understand…you need to know how to defend yourself, and yes, if the situation calls for it, attack. I don't like it, but I understand and will do everything in my power to make sure you live through this."

Harry could have cried from the relief he felt course through him at that statement. Finally, someone _understood_. Ron moved over to his side and clapped him on the back.

"If you think you're doing this alone though, mate, you've got another thing coming," Ron declared.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "We're in this together, the three of us."

"I… I know," Harry replied. "We'll do this, together."

* * *

_A/N: There you go. An extra long chapter for the extra long wait before. If you liked something or hated it, review and let me know!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognized, I don't own. No, I'm not making any money off this story._

* * *

Chapter Ten:

They were sitting in the muddy corn field next to Irene's house in the middle of Mississippi. The corn was at the baby stage again, green leaves having just pushed their way up out of the dirt. It was growing thick, the only place untouched a small, circular clearing where two girls sprawled, one brunette with white stripes and the other blonde. They were both filthy, neither caring about the watery dirt that was slowly seeping between their toes, up their jeans and chilling their flesh.

They were too busy glaring at each other.

Carol, Rogue noticed, was the most solid psyche she'd ever played host too. It creeped her out that the witch was as physically there as her own hand. Even Logan and Remy, both of whom she'd zapped more often than anybody else, were still ghostly. Most of the psyches could be pushed when she encountered them mentally, so that they retreated into the silent depths of her mind, if only for a short period of time. Not Carol.

She just sat there, in the mud, glaring daggers at Rogue.

"Why are you so stubborn?" She asked.

Rogue remained silent, studying her. Thinking. She knew Carol had seen her past, just as she'd been dunked into Carol's memories. They knew more about each other than any other person in the world. Why was Rogue so stubborn? Carol should know the answer to that.

You didn't grow up as Mystique's daughter, raised by Irene, and deal with parasitic powers without being stubborn. Or else she'd long ago have turned emo and ended it all.

Rogue took a breath, "Why are you here?"

Carol looked confused. "You saw what happened."

She had, from both her own perspective and Carol's memories. She knew exactly what happened, up until the point when their hands touched and their minds were swept away from the pain, pushed together into Rogue's body.

"No," Rogue said, tilting her head. "Why are you _here_? Whenever the memories overwhelm me, the psyche winds up taking control for a bit. By all accounts, we shouldn't be stuck here, in my mindscape. By all accounts, you'd be running the show and I'd be stuck in here by myself, until you grew weak and I could break your hold. So why are you _here_?"

Carol looked, if possible, even more confused. She leaned forward, as though to share some deep secret.

"But Rogue," she said, smiling at me. Smiling! "you resisted me! You tried to drive me away, before I could even fully materialize. You nearly managed it, too." The smile faded a little, a distant look entering her eyes. "You nearly pushed me into the abyss."

Rogue had no response to that but to resume their glaring contest.

Carol rolled her eyes. "Are you at least going to work on getting us out of here, yeah? It's your mind after all."

Silence was her only answer. She crossed her arms then, feeling childish. "Then if you won't take control, I will!"

* * *

Snape kept his eyes trained on the stone floor beneath his knees. He was aware of his breathing, steady and deep. The masked Death Eaters around him were in the same position, knees grinding into the floor, hands by their sides and heads bowed, waiting for Voldemort to give them leave to rise.

Snape didn't think it would be occurring anytime soon. In fact, he didn't think any of them would be walking out of there without feeling the tender care of at least one Crucio apiece.

So he waited, reinforcing his Occlumency barriers, keeping his mind focused and clear. His purpose in the dark, dank room was to gather information, and he'd be damned if he didn't leave with some tidbit to relay. In particular: Why? Why attack at all? What was the purpose? Why at Platform 9 ¾ on the day when students returned from summer break, but only on the Muggle side of the barrier? Why were only twenty Death Eaters sent when they were outnumbered by the (granted untrained) students, yet at least seventy more currently shared the room, attending Voldemort's court? Lastly, why hadn't Snape been privy to knowledge of the attack?

He focused back on the present as a man halfway around the circle from him whimpered in fear. Everyone in the room tensed, not daring to even breathe too loud in the silence that resounded.

"Ahhahaha…are you scared?" The whispery, alto voice bounced off the bare walls of the room they were gathered in an almost singsong fashion.

The room resembled a ballroom, with a raised dais opposite the entrance, and a wide empty space between the two. But Severus knew better. After all, ballrooms weren't situated underground, with stone floors to trip dancers, and a chill that couldn't be warded off.

No, they were in the dungeons, cleared of the wood and steel cells, but still reeking of centuries of prisoner's sweat, tears, and blood. It was a fitting place for the Dark Lord's throne room.

Footsteps echoed as a gentle thump against stone stairs, once, twice, three times descending the dias. Then, a pause, during which everyone held their breath.

"I asked a question, Wormtail!"

Wormtail whimpered again. Snape could feel his lips curling up in disgust.

"Crucio!"

The Death Eater fell to the ground, convulsing and screaming, incoherent pleads bubbling from his mouth. The two wizards on either side of him leaned away, as though to avoid being struck by his spittle.

Then it was lifted and the Dark Lord was pacing around their circle, his wand jabbed into different Death Eater's faces, gripped tightly by bony fingers.

"Are any of you frightened? Clearly, you aren't, not of me at least. But of mudbloods! Filth! Scum that somehow managed to defeat your brethren! Crucio!"

Another Death Eater fell, the shouts betraying the voice of a female.

Bellatrix, Snape realized. If she, a favorite of the Dark Lord, was being punished there was no hope for the rest of them.

"I don't know how you managed to fail this! You, Death Eaters, you are supposed to be the best of the wizarding world, yet you let the diseased leeches bring you down? Crucio! You are a disappointment! Crucio! And I do not—Crucio!— tolerate— Crucio! Crucio!—disappointment! CRUCIO! Maybe you all are… _inadequate_ to walk with me into the golden age, hmm? _Crucio!_"

He held the curse on another faceless Death Eater for nearly a minute, kicking their limp body away in disgust as he stalked back towards his throne.

"Does anyone bear good news? News of success? News of interest?" Voldemort hissed as he lowered himself, straight backed onto the ancient wood chair.

Hesitantly, a Death Eater approached from the ranks, sliding forward on his knees. "M-My Lord…" he reverently whispered.

"Ah, Yaxley. Tell me, what news do you bring?"

"My Lord, I was at St. Mungo's when several students were brought in from the battle. In my capacity as an Unspeakable, I took care of the dead, a mudblood. I stood in Dumbledore's presence, pretending to give the filth last rites as I listened to the words around me."

"Go on, Yaxley," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowed and following the man's every move.

Snape felt his blood run cold. He remembered the debriefing Dumbledore had given the Order after departing the hospital. If any of that information was leaked, the Dark Lord would surely use that information for more aggressive recruitment and Pureblood fervor.

"Harry Potter was talking to Dumbledore, my Lord. They spoke of a girl who dared to defy you by erecting a shield in the battle to protect the students. According to the healer and Dumbledore, she is nothing more than a muggle—a muggle who stole a magical core in some unknown way. The healer said it was growing and attaching itself to her, like it was a plant growing roots. Dumbledore convinced the healer to have her transported to Hogwarts." He paused for a second, heeding the gasps that arose from around him.

"Impossible!" someone breathed.

Voldemort rapped the heel of his wand against the arm of his throne, silencing the room.

"Impossible, you say? Did we not already know the mudbloods stole their magic from us? Pried it from the noble Purebloods like magpies filching something shiny, but unable to truly use it, because they are not wizards! They do not recognize the power of the jewels they have stolen! They are outsiders. Filth. A disease that must be cleansed. Is that not why you gather here, with me, your great leader? _Isn't it?_"

"Yes, my Lord…"

He stood, gliding down from the raised throne to stand in the center of the congregation. "We will purge the world. My brothers, we will strike this discord from the face of the earth and rebuild a perfect world from the ashes. All you need do is follow my word, to the letter—and I will reward you handsomely. Snape!"

Snape stiffened under the sudden scrutiny of the Dark Lord. "How may I serve you, my Lord?"

"I wonder that it is Yaxley, not you, that bears this news."

"My Lord, I did not consider it news worthy of bringing to your attention. As you said, it is not anything new for us to learn. The mudbloods are nothing more than leeches." It pained him to utter the word that had driven Lily so far from his side, but he pushed the hurt to some place deep in his mind.

"Let me be the judge of what is worthy of my attention or not, Severus." He approached Snape with deliberate slow steps and bent over, raising Snape's face with a long, thin finger under his chin. Snape willed his dark eyes blank. "Severus, you are to bring this girl and Harry Potter to me when next I call. They will be alive. They are to be examples of what happens to those who betray our cause."

Black eyes starred emotionlessly into scale-rimmed brown eyes, each warring for some form of upper hand. Voldemort's expression hardened as he released his grip on Snape's face. "Crucio!"

He was no stranger to the curse, but each introduction to it felt like a fresh plunge into the Arctic ocean while simultaneously being pierced by red hot needles along every nerve ending. He screamed and screamed, arching his back and twisting his hands into claws in an attempt to escape the pain until it ended what felt like centuries later. He didn't even try to pull himself off the cool stone, just panting, riding out the phantom shocks of pain and listening for any hint that there was more to come.

Footsteps, then a rustling of a robe indicated Voldemort once again had ascended his throne. Snape relaxed his mind, knowing he was safe.

"I believe you had something else to share with us, Yaxley?"

"Yes, my Lord. Harry Potter was injured in the battle along with his whore, Granger. It was implied, my Lord, in the course of their conversation, that a prophecy stated that Potter was to engage in a duel with you. However, he was… distraught and angry with Dumbledore because he had not yet received any training and would not in the future. They mean for him to be put up for slaughter like cattle, a sacrifice… for you, my Lord!" Yaxley uttered, leaning forward with his entire body, face earnest.

Voldemort stared at Yaxley for a long moment, breathing deeply as though he were a man who had come close to drowning.

"A sacrifice?" he tilted his head, the corners of his mouth creeping upwards. Yaxley nodded briefly.

Snape shuddered miserably on the stone floor as Voldemort—Voldemort!—threw back his head and cackled, the sound echoing throughout the dungeon.

* * *

Dumbledore quickly sidestepped out of the way as Madame Pomfrey rushed past to reach the other side of the bed. She pulled the curtains shut so that they might have some privacy and then turned her wand to the brunette on the bed.

"You're sure she's regaining consciousness?" Dumbledore inquired, studying the still girl through his half-moon glasses.

"Yes, her vitals have all picked up nearly fifty percent in the past hour. Really, it's safe to wake her with an Enervate now. I would have done it earlier, I just thought you'd want to be here is all. Whatever mental trauma she's been through, it's settled and the magical core has completely attached itself. It's functioning perfectly normally—only odd thing is that it functions too normally."

"What do you mean?"

"Take a look for yourself," she prodded him.

He tipped his head down to look past the glasses, relaxing the eye muscles. Bright blue eyes went unfocused for a moment, studying something _elsewhere_. The girl's magical core showed up as a forest green and navy blue mist focused around her hands and heart, as were many witches and wizard's cores. Dumbledore's own core, he'd been told, was a bright ice blue around his eyes, heart, and right hand (though he was still adept at dueling left-handed, he found it impossible to cast wandlessly with anything but his right hand).

"The definition and size…" he muttered to himself.

"Exactly." Pomfrey emphasized. "It's on the level of a mature adult core. As though she were a sixth or seventh year. But, from the description you and Healer Adonis gave me, she just acquired it."

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"I think, Headmaster, that she didn't just magically grow a core. I think she took it. From someone else."

Dumbledore turned his head sharply to stare at her. He opened his mouth to speak when a soft rustle from the bed caught their attention.

The girl was shaking her head upon the pillow, a furrow upon her brow. Abruptly, she stilled, even as Pomfrey started casting diagnostics.

"All normal," she declared.

The girl's eyes opened. "How curious," Dumbledore thought. The right eye was a dark green that went perfectly with her brunette hair and complexion. The left on, on the contrary, stood out as a bright blue that didn't seem to go with the girl's looks, somehow.

He broke out of his musings as her gaze focused on him. She smiled and took a breath.

"Headmaster, please, it's okay. She saved me—" her face went slack for a moment before restructuring itself into a scowl, mismatched eyes looking off to the side. "Don't do that!" Dumbledore was startled at the sudden American drawl. She focused back on him at the movement, a wary expression on her face. "Where am I then? The school? Why'd you bring me here— I'll be missed."

She threw back the covers, intent upon standing. Immediately Pomfrey was at her side, trying to usher the girl back into bed. The girl seemed to panic, cringing back from her.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted.

Pomfrey drew back, startled. "I'm not going to hurt you, dear. I'm a healer. You've been very injured and need to stay in bed until you are fully recovered. I think Headmaster Dumbledore has a few questions for you though. If you need anything just give a shout. My name's—"

"—Madame Pomfrey, I know."

Pomfrey and Dumbledore starred at the girl for a second as she sheepishly pushed her hair out of her face.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could start at the beginning? Who exactly are you?"

* * *

_A/N: Review please! I'm actually really nervous about this chapter, it gave me difficulties..._


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the X-men. I'm not making any money from this story._

Chapter Eleven:

_"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could start at the beginning? Who exactly are you?"_

Rogue sat on the bed, frozen and undecided. From Carol's memories of this man, Headmaster Dumbledore, she knew he probably didn't view her as a threat, cause he wasn't acting half as scary as he had in the past. Actually he reminded her a lot of Professor X, in a dress wearing, twinkling crystal eyes, grandfatherly kind of way.

_"It's called a robe!" _Carol interjected mentally. _"All the wizarding world wears them. Although, I thought the same thing too, as a first year."_

Still, Rogue ignored her, she had to tell him something, that much was obvious. But she couldn't exactly spill the beans about the mutant world to him. Unless he already knew, but she was pretty sure they would have covered that in Carol's education, instead of just lumping them all together as Muggles.

"What a strange word," she thought. "Muggle. Bleh. I preferred Mutant."

"_Not everyone is a mutant,"_ Carol responded. _"Muggle just means nonmagic."_

Rogue dragged her mind back to the situation at hand. The woman, Madame Pomfrey, had bustled away, the privacy hangings blocking her or any other part of the Infirmary from view. Dumbledore still sat near the foot of the bed, patient as the sun. His fingers were interlocked, with the two pointers reaching upwards to rest against his chin. Rogue couldn't help it, the sight was so much like Professor X, she snorted.

He tilted his head, amusement gracing his features. "What, may I inquire, is so funny?"

"You. You remind me of my professor. Back home," She said, before adding quickly, "where I need to go. They'll be looking for me."

"I assure you, Ms. – " He paused, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

She grumbled, not willing to trust someone she didn't really know, especially when she wasn't sure what their intentions were just yet. "Rogue."

"_He won't hurt you. They put you in the hospital wing, for God's sake."_ Carol whispered. Rogue visibly twitched.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Well, Ms. Rogue, I assure you we only have your best intentions at heart. I simply want to know how you wound up at Platform 9 ¾ defending my students."

She remained silent. Dumbledore sighed and leaned forward in his chair, peering closely at Rogue. His voice, when he spoke, was sincere and curious, although she could easily see the sharp edge behind the words.

"I realize you may not want to trust me, but in these dark times, we need all the allies we can get. I wasn't sure how much you actually knew about our world, but given that you recognized me and Madame Pomfrey, you certainly know Hogwarts. But, here's the curious thing, Ms. Rogue. I remember every student who has passed through these halls since I started working here as a Professor. Yet, I don't ever recall you being a student."

He paused again, waiting for her to interject. When she didn't speak, his monologue continued just as smoothly.

"Ms. Rogue, you addressed me right away as though you knew me. If this is true, you know what sort of man I am, and that I am eternally grateful you protected my students. I have no wish to harm you. I am simply trying to understand what happened and why it is that you seemingly grew a magical core overnight that is fully developed."

"What?" Rogue exclaimed, startled. She knew abstractly that she'd probably have to deal with some of Carol's powers, but what the professor was implying, mixed with Carol's memories, was that she was a witch—permanently.

_"Why are you so surprised, Rogue? I'm here, nearly as much as you are, and so are my powers,"_ Carol whispered in her mind. _"It's just like when you tap into someone else, except I think you took all of me. I know you think it's horrible, that I'm stuck up here, but really I'm glad."_

"That- isn't possible," Rogue muttered haltingly, feeling queasy. She felt Dumbledore's eyes sharpen on her form, seemingly to pierce her thoughts. Images swam through her brain, flashes of laying on the ground at 9 ¾, Carol's hand on hers, the constant sucking feeling from the skin on skin contact. Rogue clearly remembered their thoughts mingling, both their minds withdrawing away from the shared pain and darkness. Her thoughts…

"Get outta my head!" she cried angrily, flinging her hand into the air. A glass of water, which had been sitting beside her on the night stand, hurled through the air, following Rogue's movement towards the professor. His eyebrows drew together in surprise, but a sharp wave of his own hand sent the glass returning to rest on the nightstand once more without a single drop spilled.

Rogue glared at the man, who had the grace enough to look contrite. The silence rose between them, more intense for all that muffled voices and cries of hurt were filtered through the curtain cordoning the two off from the rest of the infirmary.

_"Maybe if I speak to him, Rogue…"_

"No." Her voice rang out loud. She ignored the confusion from the Headmaster, turning the rest of her words internal. _"He can't know about the existence of mutants. It's bad enough he probably now knows how this happened, but he probably doesn't understand why or what I am or even the consequences. If he finds out I'm sharing my head with you, not just a core, he'll want to know why and how. I can't betray my teammates like that. This world could be a threat to mutants, even if Dumbledore isn't. But once a secret is out, it's no longer a secret."_

_"Trust me, Rogue, the Headmaster knows how to keep secrets. And he could protect you."_

_"What's to protect? I'm not staying here. I have to go back to my own family."_

Carol was silent. Rogue thought she felt a tangle of emotions somewhat like fear and intense sadness radiating from the corner of her mind that was quickly becoming Carol's. She shook her head, dragging her attention back to the present, where Dumbledore was speaking to her.

"...to do, Ms. Rogue?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, good you're back." He smiled brightly as though her zoning out was normal. "I was just saying, you really need to rest up. We can talk some more tomorrow about classes and such."

"_Classes_?" Rogue asked. "What the hell do you mean, classes?"

Dumbledore ignored her language in favor of adjusting his glasses, framing the twinkle in his eyes. "Well, you do need a proper magical education, don't you?"

Rogue flung the covers of the bed back, swinging her legs over the side. He made no move to stop her.

"I'm not staying here. You can't keep me here against my will."

"I have no intention of keeping you here if you really don't want to stay. However, I must point out that you clearly need training as these powers are, ahem, magically brand new to you and you do not have full control over them. Or did you actually _intend_ to fling a water glass at me?"

Rogue stopped short, her feet touching the cool stone ground. She hadn't consciously wanted to throw the water at him. She'd just been angry as his intrusion of her mind and wanted to stop him. She wondered if she'd do that every time she got riled up. She winced at the mental images of getting angry in the Danger Room. Or anywhere around Gambit.

Gambit. She hadn't called him. He must be worried sick.

She slid completely out of bed, noticing her normal clothes had been swapped out for a light, white robe.

"_Transfiguration,"_ Carol supplied. "_No one actually changed you_."

Rogue felt some relief at that.

She turned to the headmaster. "Even if I do need training, I need to call my family now. They're probably worried sick."

The headmaster nodded thoughtfully. "I can, of course, send an owl to your immediate family members. You mother, father, siblings?"

Rogue stopped short. There was no way she was sending an owl to Mystique or Irene. They had lied to her about her powers and used her. She had long ago severed ties with them. Xavier wasn't exactly her father, but he was the only father figure in her life…

"Professor Xavier."

Dumbledore frowned. "We cannot tell your professor about the Wizarding world. It has to be a close family member, someone actually related to you. The Statute of Secrecy and all."

Rogue frowned, not wanting to explain that she didn't have any family… she pulled up short. Of course she had family! Rogue could have kicked herself.

"My brother, then. Kurt Wagner."

"Kurt Wagner. He will be sent a letter, explaining the situation and arranging a time and place to meet. Will this suffice?" He asked.

Rogue wasn't sure it would, but trusted that Kurt would pass on word to the professor. She nodded. In the mean time, her legs were quickly turning to jelly and exhaustion had her more than leaning on the bed. She weakly crawled back in, her eyelids heavy.

Dumbledore stood, smiling that insufferable smile of his and walked over to the curtain.

"I will let you sleep. We will talk more tomorrow, Ms. Rogue."

"Headmaster," she said quietly. "If I am to live here and take classes, I need my privacy. How I acquired a magical core is my business only, but I'd prefer it to not happen again."

Dumbledore waited patiently, sensing she wasn't done. Rogue steeled herself, wondering if this was giving too much away. But she needed to protect everybody else from herself.

"I cannot be touched. I will need clothes that cover as much skin as possible. Gloves, pants, long sleeves and a hat."

Dumbledore studied the exhausted girl sprawled in the bed. He didn't fully understand, but was willing to trust her, however odd the request. He had done barmier things in his time, as Minerva would testify.

He nodded. "I will see to it." He pulled aside the curtain and slid out, leaving the curious girl behind him nodding off to sleep.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry about how long it took to get this out. So much writer's block! And stress from figuring how to get money for, you know, food and a bed and other unimportant stuff... heh. *grimace*_


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